


Finding Hope

by DigitalWanderlust



Series: Finding Hope [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Attacks, Assassination Attempt(s), Canon Compliant, Disease, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, For a little then Canon-Divergent, Foul Language, Graphic descriptions, Haven is gross, Lies, M/M, Minor Injuries, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, OC sucks at lying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Prophetic Visions, Slow Burn, Violence, Will Add Tags For New Chapters, memories and flashbacks, so many subplots..., sub plots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 139,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalWanderlust/pseuds/DigitalWanderlust
Summary: Sophia Darrow was a Nurse Practitioner student when an incident landed her in a coma for over a year. Now that she's awake, she's haunted by dreams of events she can't recall. She soon discovers that magic and the Fade are real as she gets pulled into Thedas right in the middle of a war for their future. Desperate to get back home, she decides to tie her fate to the Herald's, leading the Inquisition to believe that she experiences visions of the Herald's future, so that she can be present for Adamant and re-enter the Fade - her only hope of ever making it back home.Yes, this is another MGIT Fic, but I hope it presents an interesting twist to the canon-divergent idea of a character knowing the future and attempting to make small changes. But what happens when those small changes become big ones? This will start out pretty canon-compliant, but will eventually present completely new content as Sophia discovers just how intertwined her fate becomes with the rest.Archive Warnings Apply! I'm serious. There will be graphic depictions of physical and emotional violence. I will do my best to provide warnings in specific chapters, but you've been warned! I will add tags, characters, and relationships as I post.
Series: Finding Hope [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005060
Comments: 84
Kudos: 116





	1. Truly the Maker has Called You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for checking out this fic! This is my first on AO3, but I've been working on this story for a while. I currently have both this story (and the second one) outlined and 25 chapters written so far. This work has been about a year's effort, and I've only recently decided to post it. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I plan to post a new chapter every week. Though to start, I figured I'd give you two! Enjoy!
> 
> I know I tagged this story as a slow-burn, but I thought I'd offer just a little bit of smut to start. ;-)
> 
> I don't have a beta-reader, but I do try to proofread before I post.

When I stepped out of the little round door, I had to shield my eyes from the blistering sun that instantly warmed my skin after the surprisingly cool burrow. I had known that the production company built a literal Hobbiton into the hills for the movie, but I never expected it to be so real as it all was. It was mesmerizing, feeling like I was being transported into the stories that made up my childhood.

Arms wrapped about my waist from behind and I leaned back into a firm figure. I laid my head back into a whiskered chin that nuzzled gently into my neck. When he whispered, breath warm against my ear, I had to suppress a shiver that threatened to creep up from the base of my spine. I couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver or a bad one. I hoped it was the former, but so much had changed between us. 

“Is it like you imagined?”

His chin rested on my shoulder and he started to rock me back and forth as we looked out on the setting of the Great Party Tree as the rest of the tour group filtered out from the burrow around us, breaking the spell of the scene in front of me.

I turned my head slightly to smile at him. “It’s even better.”

He squeezed his arms tighter around my waist, pleased with my response. “You know… seeing you happy like this... smiling. It makes me so happy that it almost hurts.” He spun me around and steadied me with hands on my hips. He lifted one of his hands to tuck stray hairs fluttering on the wind back behind my ear. His hand lingered at the side of my head and slowly slid down to my neck. His thumb traced the contours of my smile. “I never thought I’d see it again,” he said with his own sad smile that reflected more sorrow than happiness in his dark blue eyes.

I placed my hand in his and brought it down to hold both his hands in mine between us. I squeezed his hands gently and tried to sound reassuring. “I’m back now, Jack. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, _Mrs_. Evans.” He went in for a kiss, but I pulled back, almost instinctively instead of consciously. I frowned at my reaction.

He frowned too, but quickly hid the hint of pain that danced across his eyes by looking down at our still-clasped hands. I schooled my face back into a reassuring smile and squeezed his hands again, bringing his gaze back up mine. He promised to give me time, but time seemed to be causing him more and more pain while I tried to heal. “We’re not married yet, _Mr_. Evans,” I said teasingly in an effort to lighten the mood. I don't know why I chose to say that to do it. Maybe it was an effort to remind him that a wedding was on the horizon, or perhaps I wanted to remind _myself_ that I didn't belong to anyone - at least not yet. “Be patient, you silly man.” I leaned my forehead against his. Something that was easy to do with our closeness when neither of us fully pulled away yet. The move seemed to placate him. 

I woke up two months ago after spending over a year in a coma. We got engaged before what everyone was now calling _the incident_ and many didn’t think I would wake up. When my parents moved me into a long-term care facility, his family encouraged him to put me behind him and move on. They told him that he should consider himself lucky that we weren’t already married - it would be a lot easier to walk away legally. But in the end, he refused. A small part of him felt responsible for what happened and I knew it. I wanted so badly to reassure him that it wasn’t true, but I couldn’t remember exactly what led up to the incident. A small part of me also couldn’t deny the _feeling_ that in some part it was his fault after all.

Jack squeezed my hands to draw my attention back to him. “Hey, now,” he teased. “Don’t go getting lost in your reveries again.” He pulled back and stared at me while I tried to pull myself out of my own head, somewhat unsuccessfully. 

“Come on, everyone,” called the tour guide from the other side of the garden gate. The rest of the tour was already gathered in the dirt road. The call was meant for us.

Jack chuckled and squeezed my hands. “Come on, Soph; let's check into our hotel.” He tugged on my hands and I followed, retreating back into my fractured memories.

While Jack drove to the hotel, I sat in silence, thinking back to the last thing I could clearly remember before I woke up. It was November and the second to last semester of my Nurse Practitioner program. I had come home late from clinicals because there were so many more things for me to be able to do and take care of for the patient than just assessments and care plans. The mental and emotional requirements for the program were much more difficult than my RN training and it was a lot more stressful. Jack usually begged for my attention as soon as I got home, so I decided to complete the assessment of my patient at the hospital then finish my studies at the library before going home. It was nearly 10 PM by the time I pulled up at the house. The lights in the living room were on and brightly colored lights flickered out the window. I remember thinking that he was probably watching TV, waiting up for me.

I walked past the window but didn’t notice him immediately in the living room. I went to open the door as I usually do, placing my thumb on the lever and using my body to push the door open. This time I rammed into a door that did not budge. Even my tired mind was struck by this as odd. First person home unlocks the door, second locks it behind them. This was how it always worked with us. 

I unlocked the door and walked through the house looking for Jack. Lights were left on, but there was no sign of him. The dinner table had been set but looked like it was left in a hurry. Empty candle holders were knocked over and a vase was broken on the floor. My heart began to race while my mind pictured the possibilities of what happened to cause this scene. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called the police. 

After that, I can only seem to remember flashes. Some involved talking to the police, some involved a fight with Jack, and some hazy, ill-defined flashes that caused a tightness in my chest and a throbbing in my head.

“Another reverie?” Jack asked, pulling my attention to him. He had already stopped the car and was sitting in the driver’s side staring at me.

“No,” I lied. “Just enjoying the scenery.”

“Liar,” he said with a smirk. I tried to look affronted, but it was hard with the way he was smiling at me. “You only hum when you’re lost in your thoughts,” he pointed out.

I looked at him confused. I had never noticed that I did that before. I didn’t even realize I was doing it then. “What was I humming?”

He chuckled, but answered. “It sounded like that song from _The Lord of the Rings_. What was it? The one that hobbit sang?” He leaned over and ran the back of his finger across my cheek. “It sounded sad,” he added thoughtfully.

“Pippin’s song?” I asked.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, looking into my eyes, scanning for something.

“Oh… I suppose I was inspired by the location.”

He kept scanning, but I wasn’t sure if he found what he was looking for. He hmm’d softly to himself and leaned back, removing his seatbelt. “We’re here.”

I looked up at the Spanish Plantation style building surrounded by so much greenery that the white and pale pinks of the building stood in stark contrast. “It’s so beautiful here,” I whispered delicately. 

“Just wait until tomorrow’s adventure,” Jack teased with a playful smirk. 

He was trying so hard to make me smile. He had been acting overly cheesy and goofy and lavishing me with every symbol of affection he could muster. Chocolates, cards, flowers - a ridiculous amount of flowers - and this extravagant trip to New Zealand once I finished with the worst of my physical therapy. Being bed-ridden for so long wreaked havoc on my muscles, and while I had a therapist work with my muscles and limbs while I was asleep, it was no replacement for being awake and moving my body myself. Even now it was difficult to do a lot of activity without being exhausted, but I wanted to try - to push myself. I had to get my life back to normal and my limitations only reminded me of how much I really lost over the last year. Still, he wanted to do something, to help me escape from all of the doctor's visits and tests that made up my life since waking up. I sometimes wondered if he was trying to help me heal or if he was trying to buy my forgiveness. Forgiveness for what exactly, I still didn’t know.

He led me inside where the interiors appeared to be stuck between “Old World” luxury and colonial grandeur. I was content to just soak in the setting while Jack made all the arrangements. When we finally arrived at the room, I knew by Jack’s sidelong glance soaking in my expression, I was in for another treat. 

Even though I felt somewhat prepared for a surprise, I truly was not ready for what greeted me. I let out an audible gasp which I tried to cover with my hand. Jack smiled more broadly and led me into a massive room with open doors at the back leading out onto a balcony. The breeze blew the sheer white curtains across wooden sofas upholstered in a decorated red velvet. On one side of the room, a massive canopied bed seemed to call to me - to just sleep or jump in it like I was a child again I wasn’t certain. I made my way over to find out, unable to suppress a giggle. I toed off my flats and flung myself on the bed, not at all ashamed of the loud groan the old wood made. I crawled up onto all fours and using one of the posts, made my way back to my feet, bouncing giddily when Jack approached. 

“I’m not sure our neighbors would appreciate the noise, Soph. They might draw some conclusions,” he scolded with a smile that betrayed him. 

“Let them think the worst,” I replied with what I hoped was my most devilish smile. I dropped to my knees and kept bouncing as he came to stand in front of me. He put his hands on my shoulders to try to stop me, but I put my hands on his sides and poked at his ribs. He jumped back and giggled - a true giggle that I could only coax out of him when I tickled him. God, I missed that sound. I was giddy with the grandeur of the room, feeling like I had the old Jack back, and feeling like myself again for the first time in months… 

No. 

I suddenly realized with a twist in my stomach that it was longer than that. Much longer.

It was funny how easy it was for me to forget how much time had actually passed for him and I. I was suddenly overwhelmed with how much I actually missed him and here he was, giggling like he used to - a sound only I could elicit from him. I flung myself back with my own fit of giggles and I felt his hands hook under my knees and drag me to the edge of the bed, my dress sliding up my hips. 

“That’s fighting dirty,” he whispered huskily as he pulled me back up into a kneeling position by my hands. 

“That’s nowhere near dirty…” I replied, trying to match the texture of his voice. 

It seemed to work as his next move was to wrap his fingers under the rolled up hem of my sundress and pull it over my head swiftly. His hands replaced themselves on my shoulders, but instead of trying to hold me from bouncing, his touch was feather-light and ghosted down my arms, back up, and down my sides before sliding back up my stomach to my breasts. 

Our eyes met and I saw the questioning. It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since I woke up. In fact, the raw passion we shared between us hadn’t abated; no, this time he seemed to be asking me for something else. He wanted to know if we were okay yet. Of that, I still was not sure, but I knew I was well on my way to getting back to where we once were if my desire for him was any indication.

I wasn’t sure how to convey any of this, and really I just wanted him too badly in this moment to try and figure it out, so I stretched my fingers into his hair and drew him close for a kiss which he heatedly and enthusiastically returned with a soft groan. He broke off from my lips and kissed me down my neck. I raked my manicured nails down his back while he sucked and nipped at my neck, collarbone, and sternum. 

He wrenched down the cups of my bra and took one breast in his hand and the other in his mouth, wrapping his lips tightly around my nipple and flicking it with his tongue fervently. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the events that transpired between us over a year ago, but in moments like this, it didn’t seem to matter. Right now felt perfect. We felt perfect. And I felt like forgiveness and moving forward - hell anything - was possible. 

He pushed his body against mine and, placing his knee between my legs, guided us gently down onto the bed. He resumed worshipping my body with his lips, moving his hands down to my hips and around to squeeze my ass firmly. He kissed slowly, agonizingly slow, down my stomach, across my hips, down my thigh, my knee, my shin, all the way to my toes. Then he dropped my foot and picked up the other to start again in reverse and - if possible - more slowly. 

My breath hitched and I held it as he slowly kissed the underside of my knee, then the side, then an inch higher. I thought I would die waiting. When he kissed the inside of my thigh I gasped and finally let my breath out. I felt like I would start panting when he bit down on the fabric of my underwear and slowly, slower than his progress up my leg, pulled them down and off my feet.

I stared up at the canopy above the bed, trying to control my breathing when I felt a warmth ghost across my thighs and the apex in between from his own warm, heavy breath. When he danced his fingers across my already swollen bud, I lost the control I was trying to regain. I became a mess of panting moans when he replaced his fingers with his tongue and worked me into a blissful oblivion.

I laid back across the blankets feeling limbless and sated. I reached out my arms to him, inviting him to join me. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and slid off his jeans, kicking them off his feet before placing his knee between my legs again and leaned over me, his hands planted above my head. He leaned down and kissed me with a deep hunger that left our teeth clashing against each other.

I could feel the desire rush through my belly again as Jack pressed his body against me, grinding his hips between mine. I groaned softly, clutching at his back. He ground his hips against me again, stroking his hardening member through my folds, eliciting a shuddering gasp when he massaged across my swollen, sensitive pearl.

I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and pressed my hips into his calling out his name in desperation. He rubbed harder before suddenly shifting his hips and prodding at my entrance. With each gentle thrust, he entered me slowly and sensuously, his arms quivering from the effort of his restraint. He rocked his hips slowly, delving deeper with each smooth stroke. When his pelvis finally met mine, he ground against me hard and I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, squeezing him with every muscle I could muster control of.

His restraint broke and with a low groan he peeled my fingers from his shoulders and pressed my hands into the mattress as his pace became more urgent and erratic. With each deep stroke, I could feel the tension building just below my bellybutton again, but by the short, panting moans he made, I knew he was close.

With a shuddering cry, he thrust shallowly a couple more times as he came before collapsing across my chest. He squeezed his arms around me, the muscles in his biceps still twitching as the tension began to unravel within my belly.

I couldn’t find myself becoming too disappointed. Even before Jack, I’d never been with a man where I’d managed to finish in this way. At least with Jack he always thought to see to my needs first - and he was _very_ good at it.

With a deep, contented sigh Jack pushed himself up from me and pulled out. He leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead before kissing me on the lips more fervently. He pulled back and rolled to the side, covering his face with his arm. I followed him and took the opening he left and laid across his chest. He moved his arm to my back and sleep took us both quickly.

* * *

Some of my dreams would be extremely vivid and detailed. Some would be disjointed and jarring. That night's dreams consisted of the latter.

Red and blue lights flashed across the dark dining room. I sat numb while figures flitted back and forth. Doing what? I couldn’t be sure; I wasn’t paying attention anymore.

 _Flash_.

Jack was shouting and pointing out the window. Suddenly rage contorted his face, and his pointing finger became an open hand. 

_Flash_.

I was running down the wet sidewalk, heading downtown. The rain was falling thick and heavy blurring my vision. When I went to wipe my face clear, I ran into something hard.

 _Flash_.

The world had turned sideways and a pair of feet seemed to be running along the wall to my right— wait. It wasn’t a wall; was it the street? How did I end up this way? Where was I? The blue and green neon from a nearby sign bled into the red and green from the traffic light while I tried to remember where I was or why I felt so cold.

 _Flash_.

I was surrounded by green. I still felt cold, but I couldn’t tell where I was anymore. Everything seemed to be coated in a thick fog. I remember feeling terror, but not why. 

Voices echoed in my head.

“How have you reached this place?”

“You don’t belong here.”

“... through the abyss… to see it for what it is...”

“ _What are you?_ ”

 _Flash_.

I was surrounded by spiders, coated in a greenish-black viscous fluid that dropped from their bodies as they crawled towards me, around me, on me. I tried to run, but a spider larger than seemed possible dragged me by the ankle back into the thick fog. 

Before I was consumed by total darkness, the voice returned.

“Don’t worry, my dear. I will take all your pain away.”

* * *

I woke up with a start and immediately felt cold. The balcony doors were still open and the breeze blew gently, cooling my naked, sweat-coated skin. 

Jack stirred next to me. “Babe? You ok?” He draped his arm over my clammy stomach before recoiling. “Christ, you’re freezing!” He sat up and pulled the blanket over us both and scooted closer to my side. I was shivering. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you sick?”

I shook my head. “It was another nightmare,” I said gasping.

Jack sighed and threw the covers off of him and got out of bed. He walked over to his suitcase and started rummaging inside it. “The doctor said it would happen. Do you…” he paused and turned towards me. He took a breath before continuing, “Want to talk about it? He said that would help.” He was trying. Lord, he was trying, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Jack would have much rather preferred I just moved on with the missing gaps in my memory. But every doctor we worked with told him that ignoring _the incident_ would eventually make everything worse. So he tried.

I shook my head quickly. “I was back in that place again…”

Jack returned with a glass of water in one hand and a small, round pill resting on the palm of his other. I took both from him and swallowed the pill with a large gulp of water. He sat back on the bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I stiffened. He hesitated, but decided to keep his arm there and pulled me into his chest. “Where? The…” he hesitated. “The alley?”

“No; the green place.”

He sighed. “It was just a dream, Soph.”

Tears coated my cheeks at this point. “You don’t understand, Jack. I can’t remember everything, and even then it comes in flashes, but every time I dream of _this_ place… It was so vivid. It felt like I was trapped. What if that’s where I was when I was in my coma?”

He let out an uncomfortable half-chuckle. “What do you mean ‘where you were’? You didn’t go anywhere, babe.”

I pulled out of Jack’s grasp and got out of the bed. The chill in my bones abated and now the room was sweltering. This time the breeze on my skin felt comforting. “That’s not what I meant!” I was beginning to feel exasperated with him. Whenever I tried to bring up my dreams about this “other place” Jack would shut me down. He barely even wanted to talk about the incident. When I would ask him what happened he would tell me that he wasn’t there so he couldn’t say. I’d beg him to tell me something because no one would tell me except that I was injured very badly. 

They treated me like my mind would shatter if they said the wrong thing. They told me to wait for my memories to come back to me and then I could begin to process them, but I was certain my dreams were connected to it all. They were the key to understanding what happened to me. These dreams, this other place that haunts me, it has to be a part of all of it. “Every time I dream of that place again, I feel like I was there forever. Trapped. Stuck somehow. And I hear voices there too. They’re accusing me, questioning me, threatening me, then trying to soothe me. So what if it isn’t real? It’s still significant. I feel like all those months I was asleep… I must have been trapped there.”

“Sophie, you had a head injury and experienced a traumatic event. The doctors said you wouldn’t wake until you were ready.”

“But what if that wasn’t it! What if I _did_ want to wake but something was keeping me?”

Jack was quiet for a long time while I paced the room trying to hold on to the details of the nightmare before they left me. I could feel it already slipping away, out of my mind. “What if…” he paused. “What if it was both? What if this… “other place” was a manifestation in your mind of what happened? You once told me it was foggy and dark. What if that was your mind trying to protect itself from what happened? You still can’t remember all the details. What if this place is your mind trying to shut it out?”

I sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, the pill already making me feel sleepy. I didn’t want to believe him; it did make sense, but deep in my gut, it felt like something more. Like I was missing something important; like a piece of me was missing. Could it really be my own mind shutting out the trauma? “I guess you could be right…”

Jack crawled over to the edge of the bed and hugged me from behind. This time I didn’t stiffen. “Come on, Soph. Let’s go back to bed. I’ll protect you from the nightmares,” he whispered, his voice growing more husky. 

I laughed half-heartedly and let him pull me back. I desperately wished that what he promised was even possible even while I knew it was not. Only the medicine which dulled my senses and made me feel so tired seemed to keep the nightmares at bay.

* * *

Jack turned off the road next to a brown wooden building dwarfed by a massive canopy that looked like it was built from wood and glass. We passed a sign as he went to park the car. 

“Waitomo caves?”

“Have you heard of them?” he asked as he put the car in park. I shook my head and he smirked. “Then you’ll love this.” He knew I liked to explore nature. Caves, canyons, deep-wooded trails. I loved it.

Once inside, we entered the caves by a guided boat tour led by a descendant of a Maori tribe. As we floated through the caves he shared explanations both scientific and mythic. One such legend told of great earthquakes that rocked the island and how a young chieftain of their tribe ventured into the caves to face the great sleeping giant who had awoken to threaten them all. Then we entered an enormous cavern with the ceiling glowing in bright bluish-green speckles and strands. Everyone gasped in awe. I was also overcome with the beauty of it all. 

The guide continued his story. “The battle was so great that the earth shook with fury for days. When it finally ended, the earth and seas calmed and the chieftain emerged with extraordinary tales of these caves. Some say their battle was so bloody that the giant’s blood streamed through the caverns, staining the walls, the water, and the animals that lived within which today gives the worms their blue color.”

Jack leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “A little less romantic when you think of all this as blood.”

I giggled softly and whispered back, “It still is when you think of the bravery and sacrifice some men faced to save those they loved.” Jack wrapped his arms around me from behind and I leaned back into him, staring up at the ceiling of the cave. “I always love listening to myths. In a time when science didn’t exist, these stories offered an explanation for things in the world that we couldn’t explain. Earthquakes became the work of angry titans or wrestling gods. Floods and famines and seasons all had a reason for being, even if it was to punish; it was still better than believing their pain was for nothing and their fortunes were just a turn of luck.”

Jack kissed the side of my head while the boat turned around and made its way to the cavern exit. “I love the way you think about the world. You believe in a purpose or reason for everything and you find a way for the world to make sense. You always make me strive to be a man who deserves you.” He pulled back and turned me around to face him. “Your empathy reminds me how important it is to think of others first. Your inquisitive mind makes me want to keep _my_ mind always open to learn more, to learn from you and others. You’ve taught me that I can change my mind when presented with enough evidence to reassess my beliefs. You’ve taught me how to keep growing, and Sophia, I want to grow with you. I know you lost the other one,” he said, reaching into his jacket. “And a lot has happened and changed between us, so I wanted to honor the journey we’ve gone through.” 

He pulled a blue box from inside his jacket. My chest tightened and I didn’t know from what. A million emotions flooded my mind in that moment. Love. Happiness. Joy. Fear. Sadness. Regret. Anger. I couldn’t be sure what they stemmed from. My emotions were a mix of fear and mistrust, but God, how I wanted to be with this man, even after everything that happened. 

Jack opened the box to reveal a simpler, yet more beautiful version of the engagement ring I had lost over a year ago. “Sophia Anne Darrow, will you…” He paused before continuing with a chuckle, “ _still_ marry me?”

By this point, his proposal had caught on with the rest of the boat and now twelve other people watched in rapt attention. This actually made it a lot more difficult to think. I still hadn’t figured out all my feelings. Sure I desired Jack nearly all the time, but there were moments where it was still difficult to be close to him. Parts of me hoped I would be able to move on, to heal from what had happened, but I still didn’t even remember everything. How could I move on when I didn’t fully remember what I was moving on from? “Holy crap, Jack…” I whispered, trying to catch my breath. “I-I…” I struggled to speak and just gaped for a few moments. I looked sideways at the growing number of people looking our way, but I was paralyzed. I didn’t understand why it wasn’t such an easy answer; I mean technically we were already engaged.

Jack sensed my distress and leaned in towards me. The others in the boat tried to act like they weren’t watching now. He grabbed my hands firmly in his. “I know this seems sudden. You’re still healing and coming to terms with everything, but I wanted to do this to show you that I will be here for you, no matter what happens. I love you, Soph, and I will never leave you. I want to be here for you and help you. We can wait and take as long as you need before we even think about a wedding, but please…” His voice cracked and he had to stop and clear his throat. He continued softly, “Please, Soph, let me give you this as a constant reminder that I’m always here.” I hadn’t noticed that I was crying until Jack wiped a tear away with his thumb. “What do you say?” he asked quietly. 

I didn’t think I could speak at this moment. Either my throat wouldn’t work or my tongue would betray me, so I merely nodded. He let out a relieved sigh and a teary chuckle as he pulled the ring from the box and put it on my finger. The boat erupted in applause and congratulations. We held each other waiting for the boat to dock.

Even though the tour had only been about forty-five minutes, I was exhausted by the end of it. So many thoughts flooded through my mind by the end. I was still trying to figure out how I felt about Jack, grasping for something solid and permanent, but lately it seemed like my emotions were constantly in flux. A small part of me felt guilty for it, and the band around my finger only added to the weight of it.

Jack stepped out of the boat first and then offered me his hand to help. I took it and he helped me step onto the dock, then pulled me into him. He held me tightly and nuzzled his whiskered chin into my hair. “Ready for more adventure?” he asked, whispering into my ear.

Truly, I was ready to take a very long nap and for some alone time to figure out my thoughts, but alone time would mean with Jack and quite possibly a conversation I wasn’t ready to have. 

“Absolutely,” I replied with a schooled smile. 

A little while later, we were trained in abseiling and then outfitted in our wetsuits and harnesses and guided down towards the Black Abyss - a part of Ruakuri caves known for its seemingly endless darkness. When we faced the cliff that led off into the abyss, I started backing up towards the edge, my heart racing in an exciting rhythm. I loved this kind of adventure. Jack, however, was trying his best to take deep breaths and that final step back. He’d take a breath, lean back, shake his head and lurch forward again onto solid ground. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You okay?”

He looked over at me and smiled uneasily. “Yeah. It’s just hard not being able to see the bottom,” he said, leaning back over and looking out into the darkness below us.

“That’s part of the fun.” I smirked, hoping to encourage him and challenge him. I then leaned back and took a small leap, letting some of the rope carry me down the rock face. 

We rappelled in silence for a minute or so, going slowly at first while Jack seemed to settle himself. We’d share a few comments back and forth, but for the most part we were quiet. This gave me some important time to think. 

I couldn’t really pinpoint the source of my conflicting emotions about Jack. Really the incident wasn’t directly his fault. It was however, indirectly, and with the absence of the perpetrator and a concrete knowledge of what he or she had even _done_ , I think a part of me just wanted someone to focus my hurt and rage towards - besides myself. Part of it all was my frustration with my missing memories. Maybe if I could remember everything that happened, it’d be possible to catch those responsible. I couldn’t even remember why I felt this way - all the rage, the hurt, the shame. Truly, I was mostly angry with myself, but sometimes it helped to blame someone else. I knew it wasn’t fair to him, but it was a lot easier to push back the emotions, to not spiral into the feeling of helplessness and depression from waking up to a life that was completely alien to what I had before I fell asleep. All those months in the NP program were all but erased. It was a skills-based education as well as knowledge-based. They wouldn't just let me pick up where I'd left off; I'd have to start over. Even my RN license lapsed in my time asleep. Sometimes I felt like all my frustration and sadness would swallow me whole if I didn’t have someone else willing to accept my craziness, bear the brunt of my frustration, and bring me back from the edge. Was that what Jack was offering with his second proposal? Did he truly understand what he was offering when he promised to stay by my side?

We reached a second ledge where more guides waited and unhooked us from the ropes and gear. We walked to another ledge that led through a glowworm-filled cavern where they hooked Jack up to a zipline that sloped down towards the bottom. “You ready for this one?” I asked with a smirk. 

He toed his way to the edge and looked down. “At least I can see the bottom this time…” he replied with fairly little confidence. 

“Well enjoy it,” I whispered into his ear. “Because it goes fast.” With that, I slapped him - hard - on the ass, knocking him off the edge. He screamed the entire way down the zipline.

Then it was my turn. They hooked me up and I ran for the edge, taking a leap and leaned back, stretching out my arms and legs and watched the cave pass me by. 

When I got to the bottom Jack was waiting with hands on hips. “That was cruel you know. I wasn’t ready. I thought I was going to piss myself!”

His admonishment only made me laugh again. To which he pouted. While the guides unhooked my harness and gear, I tried to make amends. “Babe, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Look, you were completely safe. I would never do anything to actually hurt you."

“Except my pride…” he muttered, walking away.

I hopped on his back and whispered in his ear. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later tonight.”

He turned his head and smirked at me. “I guess that makes it fair.”

I kissed him on the cheek and jumped off his back. “So what next?”

* * *

After a couple hours of tubing along the underground river, we ended up at a still pool with a gorgeous waterfall. I returned by ring for fear of losing it in the water - I had lost weight and muscle mass since my coma so the ring needed to be resized. He kept it in a plastic bag inside his wetsuit as we explored the caves freely. It was slow going with the tiredness and exhaustion in my limbs, but I fought against it. Finally, it became too much, so Jack and I camped out at the edge of a pool with a tricking waterfall for a while. I sat and rested while Jack climbed to the top of the waterfall and splashed into the pool below. Eventually he returned and laid down next to me. We didn't talk. He just laid back onto the smooth stone and I joined him, enjoying the silence of each other’s company. Jack was giving me moments of peace- like he knew that was exactly what I needed and he gave that to me. 

We weren’t completely alone. Others had the same idea; swam around in the waters, rested under the waterfall, or jumped off it, but it was still peaceful down here, deep within the earth.

Jack’s breast rose steady and calm and I realized he was asleep. Our guide was nearby talking with another guide, so I decided to explore. When he climbed the waterfall earlier, I noticed a small path that opened to another small cavern that reflected more light from the glow worms. I left Jack napping and went to check it out.

The cavern was small, and the glow worms seemed to light up the entire space. The water that fed into the waterfall streamed through a small opening that was most likely too small for me to swim through, so I milled about examining the space, memorizing it. Then I realized there was a small crevice that seemed almost hidden. It was a small space, but I was able to squeeze through and then it quickly opened back up enough that I could walk. The glow worms weren’t in this corridor so it was a little more difficult to see.

I pulled out the small water-proof keychain light Jack gave me. It was a flat square piece of plastic that lit up a small LED light when I pressed the center of the square. It was a weak light, but the room was so dark and small, it lit it up considerably. Then I noticed dark, shiny veins along the rock face. It looked like a deep, dark sapphire. It struck me as odd that veins of minerals could still be found in these caves with so much public access.

I suddenly felt like a trespasser. Had I missed some sign or blockade telling me to go no further? Did they even know this corridor existed? There could be no way that in the hundreds of years that locals have known about this place, they hadn’t found the opening.

Even as I felt like I had trespassed into some sacred space, I was still very much drawn to the mineral that carved itself through the walls. I reached out and brushed my fingers across the smooth surface before jerking them back. I felt something, a sort of electric pulse shoot through my fingers when I touched it. It was very faint and merely made my fingertips tingle, but it took me by surprise. I placed my entire palm on the vein and felt the tingling build to my wrist. 

Suddenly I heard a faint crackle echo through the corridor, coming from deeper within the cavern. I jerked my hand back to my chest again and strained to listen. It didn’t sound like the cracking of stone falling against stone, but I didn’t hear it again so I couldn’t be sure. However, for the briefest of moments, I thought of the crackling as reminiscent of electricity. I brushed it off; we were deep within the cave systems, there was no way for electricity to reach down here, but when my hand touched the stone in the walls, I wondered if it could be possible.

I wanted to find out. 

I followed the corridor into a deep darkness. So dark that my small flashlight seemed to barely make an impact anymore. It wasn’t just the absence of light… the darkness felt like it existed as real as matter that I could touch and see. The darkness was thick like a fog. It seemed to breathe around me, to press in and oppress me, then to recede and offer me more freedom and light.

I kept walking, following the veins of dark stone, hoping to hear the noise again and find the source. Just when the darkness seemed to surround me again and press in, I stepped on something that made a sharp, snapping sound. So unused to any noise other than the soft crunching of dust and gravel, I jumped back, my heart hammering in my chest. 

On the ground below me was a long wooden stick where the wood fanned out into a flat end that looked like the blade of an axe, but it was still all made of wood. It looked like some of the weapons on display in the museum above ground. It was a Maori weapon, but it looked really old and even more primitive than the ones on display. 

My heart picked up its pace again, but I also felt a deep chill. I realized that I truly had trespassed into a part of the caves where no one else apparently ever ventured. I suddenly felt like an outsider bumbling about in something she had no clue and ruining everything. These caves were a huge find for the locals; this wasn’t meant for me. 

I resolved to turn and find my guide and show him the passageway. But as I turned, a cold breeze blew at my back and I heard the crackling noise again. 

I don’t know why the embarrassed shame left me or why I was overcome with the urge to continue forward, but I felt compelled to keep going.

As I walked, I noticed more weapons that littered the ground, but these were smaller shafts of something that appeared to be made of stone or metal. One side came to a point while the other side had two long notches etched into the shaft about an inch from the end. I wondered what they were for. Obviously a piercing weapon, but how? The shaft was so smooth, how could a person gain enough momentum and grip to stab someone with it? As soon as you hit something remotely hard, your hand would slip down the shaft. 

I picked one up to examine it. Were the notches a way to connect some sort of hilt? It was too short to attach to any sort of hilt effectively. It honestly reminded me of an arrow, but it was much too short and heavy for that as well. Then it struck me, the notches much have indeed been for fletching, but this wasn’t an arrow. It was a crossbow bolt.

That didn’t seem to make sense for the culture and era. The Maori didn’t have crossbows. It was an invention of the Chinese. Could they have traveled to these islands and met the Maori in combat? There have been studies on the similarities between the cultures, but finding these distinctly different weapons in one place and preserved as they were… Jack should have been here for this. He was the anthropologist, not me. Different cultures fascinated me, but I felt wildly out of my depth here. 

Once more, I resolved to return, but again the crackling made me turn back like a compulsion. I continued on and began to see a faint green glow which I was glad of - my thumb was starting to hurt from keeping the light on. But this glow wasn’t like the same aquamarine color of the glow worms, it was a deeper green. The crackling occurred more frequently and got louder. 

Finally the glow took on a form. Form wasn’t exactly the best word to describe it. It had no form. But rather than some eerie glow, it became a light. It flittered and waved in the cavern ahead, like an aurora borealis of only green hues.

When I entered the cavern, I could feel a charge in the stale air. I also realized that I was standing on a platform that looked out upon a massive space. I couldn’t see where it ended in any direction and everything took on a sickly green glow, even the deep blue mineral looked green. In front of me, at the edge of the platform, I found more Maori weapons and a massive vein of the mineral, but it looked cracked and broken. Could the ancient Maori have tried to mine it? If so, why did they leave so much of it behind? Or perhaps, their legends of a great battle beneath the earth had some truth to it. 

The charge to the air intensified suddenly and the crackling became more frequent. My heart sped up again and I turned to go, to flee. But before I could make it back to the corridor, the green light overhead opened up and I looked back. For a brief moment I could see through it like a window to see a landscape of green fog and twisted rock formations. I could feel a crushing pull against my body, and then everything went dark. 


	2. Great Heroes Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell makes his appearance, but he soon finds he isn't the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces MY Herald (and a picture!). Some dialogue will be similar to the game, but I try to rearrange or add things especially as Sophia's appearance begins to change things (small at first).
> 
> Some of my chapter titles come from the Chant of Light; not sure how long I can effectively keep that up though.
> 
> While this work is primarily from Sophie's POV, I do switch from time to time and have decided that when I do, their POV will be in third person.
> 
> **11/11 revised a bit to narrate more of her thoughts in constructing her lie to Leliana.
> 
> Mods used in creating my Maxwell Trevelyan:  
> SK Messy Layered, Hair Retexture, Scalp Retexture Hair Skaramoosh  
> Jude Complexion by Gearhog  
> Human Male Skyhold Retextures by Horography  
> My Sophia Mods:  
> Ciri Hair Bun by Elithabesu  
> Natra Complexion by Gearhog  
> Warm Knitted Jammies by Aislyrith
> 
> Shared Mods:  
> SOS Basic Brows Naviruo  
> Enhanced Inquisitor Sliders by kingslayvr  
> HD Eye Textures by Zachillios  
> Immersive Starting Armors by tirnony  
> Seasonal Palettes (dark winter) by berelinde

Maxwell Trevelyan didn’t think he’d ever had a more stressful, terrifying day. First he woke up feeling like he was hungover from the worst night of his life and that he must have gotten his hand chopped off in a drunken brawl. Actually, it would have probably felt better if his hand had been chopped off. Then he wouldn’t have the continuous searing pain shooting up his arm nor the suspicions of everyone around him. The Divine was dead - and so too was everyone else at the Conclave - everyone except him and his Maker-cursed mark. Of course they all believed he did it. He was the only one to walk out of there alive. Well… that wasn’t entirely accurate. He heard he hadn’t walked out of anything, but rather fell, quite gracelessly, out of one of these new rifts that began appearing everywhere. 

Now he was hiking up this damned cold mountain crawling with demons that were being spit out of a giant hole in the sky. Maybe the soldiers were right. This had to be the end of the world. He certainly felt like he was dying. 

He secretly wondered if anyone would care if he did indeed cut off his hand. The Seeker had told him it was killing him. Would that stop it? Probably not. If it did save him, it would only be a short respite. Everyone believed he caused the explosion and he can’t even remember a damned thing! The Seeker promised a trial, but who would believe him when the evidence made even him sometimes think himself guilty?

Then something happened. He and the Seeker finally caught up with the others, and he had actually closed one of the rifts in the sky. Well, the mark on his hand did. He knew then that this had to be the work of the Maker. What else would bring together an elven apostate, a dwarven writer and explorer, and a Seeker of Truth together at the end of the world? And not just any seeker, but the Right Hand of the Divine herself. 

Maker, it sounded like the setup for a horrible joke. 

Much like any gift of the Maker, it came with a measure of sacrifice. He alone held the power to close the rifts, but at great cost to himself. The mark he bore also bore him great suspicion and it was a race against time to seal the Breach in the sky before it consumed him. 

Maxwell cut down another shade and turned to help the dwarf who had just thrown down some caltrops to get space and use his crossbow - which he apparently calls Bianca - more effectively. The shade was still going after him fast, so Maxwell pushed himself harder and leapt with all his might to plunge his daggers into the shade’s back. Black ichor covered his uniform and his face, but the shade staggered and turned its attention from Varric who took a quick cheap shot that split its arm open and distracted it momentarily before he leapt back out of harm's way, drawing the shade off.

“Hey! Over here!” The Seeker shouted after the shade to draw it off Maxwell so he could flank it. When the group worked together, they made safe and quick work of their enemies which was surprising given the tensions among them. Varric and the apostate, Solas, seemed to be warm and welcoming to him as soon as he joined them. Though perhaps that could have been because he just closed a rift and proved his life worthwhile. But Solas had even vouched for him, saying that no non mage could possibly have caused the explosion at the Conclave, though he agreed that it didn’t seem possible that anyone could have the power to have done this. So even though he couldn’t remember a thing since the Conclave started and his life now seemed to be tied inextricably to the mark and this chaos of the Breach, he did find some comfort in the fact that he could not have caused all this - that this wasn’t some wicked plan or vile punishment. He just seemed to be a victim of circumstance or perhaps fate.

The four gathered together after the shades were dispatched, exhausted and out of breath. A man with blonde hair and polished armor covered with a dark mantle approached them.

“Is that finally all of them?” asked Varric, leaning against his crossbow. “Oh, hey, Curly. Funny seeing you here at the end of the world.” He nodded to the approaching man who seemed to ignore the familiar greeting. 

“It’s doubtful you’ll get to rest long. This rift has been releasing demons since the whole thing began,” he warned. “This is him?” he asked turning to the seeker. 

She nodded in response. “Commander, this is the prisoner. He has already sealed two rifts on our way up here.”

“I’m Maxwell Trev-“

“No time for introductions! More coming through!” shouted the man before storming off to greet the new threat. 

Maxwell was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of fear and dread as two demons appeared through the rift. He couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to flee and never look back, and when he looked over to the others, he noticed Varric seemed to be experiencing the same. Solas and Cassandra, however, remained stoic. 

Varric broke off to assist the man he called ‘Curly’ while Solas and Maxwell assisted Cassandra in taking down the second demon. This one was different than the shades and wraiths that they had encountered before. These gangly creatures looked like their faces were wrapped in a permanent shroud that was all that contained the darkness and ichor beneath and a wave of fear emanated from them. They were much more difficult than the shades. They were able to manipulate the fade in order to disappear and reappear throughout the battlefield, taking them by surprise more than once.

At one such instance, the demon had knocked Cassandra to the ground. She barely got back up in enough time to hunker down behind her shield while the demon beat away at her. Solas sent a frosty blast at it, capturing it in ice allowing Maxwell to lash out with both daggers, shattering its frozen form to pieces. 

“Good job! Now help us over here,” called Varric over his shoulder. He continued to fire bolts into the demon, but it didn’t seem to be phased much as he continued to swipe away at the commander’s shield. Cassandra challenged the demon to give the man a reprieve. Solas cast a barrier around the three of them and then they split up - Solas side-stepping to the right to remain out of the demons reach, Cassandra charging forward to meet it head on, and Maxwell skirting around the battlefield to flank it. 

Defeating this demon was much easier than the first and it was easier to predict who it was going to target when it manipulated the Fade. As soon as the second demon was dispatched the feeling of fear had disappeared and the energy around the rift had shifted. It had become a familiar feeling. The rift seemed to resonate with the mark and it was almost like the mark itself knew what to do. He raised his hand and concentrated on the familiar resonance between the rift and his hand, then he could feel the painful pulling - as if the Fade would swallow him whole if not for the mark upon his hand. Then the sky snapped shut with a crackle, and the rift was gone. 

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,” said Solas approaching him with a hopeful smile. 

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” offered Varric, adjusting his soiled and disheveled coat, looking up at the sky. 

The commander joined them, exhausted but trying to hide it with his rigid stature. “Well done, prisoner. I sincerely hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here.”

Maxwell nodded solemnly, looking around at the battlefield where many soldiers lay fallen and many more crawling away wounded, seeking help back at camp. “You’re not the only one hoping that.”

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we. A word, Seeker?”

The two stepped off to the side and spoke in hushed tones while the other two gathered closer to Maxwell. The commander pointed to where the rift once stood and Cassandra whipped her head back over to the three of them. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” asked Varric. 

“I don’t know…” Maxwell said, uneasy. 

“The Seeker appears to be perturbed,” offered Solas. 

“Aye, I know that look. You do not want to be on the receiving end of that look,” added Varric. 

Their banter only served to make Maxwell feel more ill at ease. He was trying so hard to prove to Cassandra that he cared about what had happened and that he truly just wanted to help, but clearly something had happened to erode that trust if looks were anything to go by. 

Suddenly Cassandra broke off from the commander and stormed back over, the commander following behind. Maxwell flinched as she approached, but she stormed right passed him to his surprise and ended up in front of Solas, an accusatory finger pointed right at his chest. “Explain yourself!”

Solas calmly removed her finger from his chest and looked back up at her. “I will gladly as soon as you tell me what it is that you inquire.”

“You said the mark gave the ability to travel through the rifts and into the Fade!”

“I _theorized_ that the mark exerts some form of control over the Fade. One benefit of such control _may_ be the ability to enter the physical Fade and travel through it. Yes, I did, given the evidence provided by the prisoner here. So far, it seems my theories have held true. Why? Is there new evidence you wish to discuss?” Solas remained calm in the face of Cassandra’s fury, but Maxwell also got a sense that Solas was being extremely pedantic. He couldn’t tell if it was just his studious nature, or if he was laying it on heavier than usual in order to condescend to her.

“Another person has fallen through the rift!” she shouted, pointing to the space it had once existed.

Solas’ eyes lit up. “Fascinating! May I examine them?”

Cassandra huffed, but the commander was the one who spoke. “Fascinating? The world is falling to pieces and you find it _fascinating?_ We’re barely surviving the Breach and you want to study it?!”

“We cannot just swing a sword at everything unknown to us, Commander. Sometimes we must study a threat to figure out how to beat it, yes?”

Cassandra took a deep, sobering breath and turned to the commander, her voice subdued. “He is right, Cullen, and he was right about the mark being able to close the rifts.” She turned to Solas. “Perhaps after we have closed the Breach you may get your chance to examine her.”

Solas took a step forward, urgency in his voice, “I understand the Breach must take precedence, but tell me, does she also bear a mark?”

The commander shook his head. “Not that we have been able to discern. She, too, collapsed upon falling through the rift and has not yet woken. That was a day ago. She was badly injured and is being tended to in the field hospital. We were going to have her transferred to Haven this morning, but the demons took a lot out of us. We didn’t have the men to escort the wounded back.”

Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder. “It is alright, Cullen. You did well holding them back this long. We will handle it from here.”

Cullen nodded and pointed to the broken walls and archways behind where the rift once stood. “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.” Maxwell took a deep breath and turned back towards the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

* * *

As I woke, I felt as though my body was unable to fully reach consciousness all at once. I felt paralyzed, unable to move or feel any part of my body - that inability also seemed to extend to my eyes. The first sense that returned to me was smell. It smelled like the Waitomo Caves, dank and wet, but I thought I could also pick up the musty smell of wet hay as well.

Then sound returned slowly. Noises were soft and jumbled at first as if my head was submerged under water. Slowly, the noises became voices and voices became words and sentences that I could understand.

“For all we know, she could have caused the explosion!” It was a voice she definitely understood through a heavy accent - French? There was some sort of explosion? Was it in the caves? Suddenly my memory flashed to the green light floating in the air of the cavern and the electricity crackling around me. Then a bright green light and then nothing. Had that crack in the air exploded? What the hell was it? It looked like a crack in solid matter that allowed me to see through to the other side. But there shouldn’t be another side, it was a crack in the middle of nothing except thin air.

I tried to calm my mind and continue listening to the voices. A softer, more measured voice replied, “As I said before with the Herald, the explosion could not have been caused - even by a powerful mage - in isolation. Furthermore, when studied by both your templars and myself, while we sensed some remnants of the Fade upon her, it was not the same as one senses in a mage. It could possibly have been due to her physical exposure to the Fade. And finally, in case you had forgotten, it was concluded that the voice at the temple undoubtedly belonged to the one who caused the explosion and killed the divine.”

“A voice that gave orders to kill the Herald. She could have been there!”

The Herald? The Divine? Mages? Templars? Am I dreaming? They’re talking about fantasy… What’s more, they were talking about a fantasy I knew well. I played Dragon Age: Origins when it was released, and dabbled with the other games and stories, but after I woke up from my coma, trying to decide what to do with my life, I found solace in Inquisition. I felt like solving the chaos of another world helped me feel better about the mess in my own.

Before I could reflect more, my senses dulled again and I found myself floating back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Coming to full consciousness again was a difficult struggle. When I woke up, the first sensation I was aware of was intense pain. Before I even opened my eyes, I let out a gasp, finding it difficult to breathe. I whimpered and tried to open my eyelids, but found it impossible. Suddenly a warmth spread across my skin and the pain somewhat dulled.

“Is that better, my child?” asked a soft, maternal voice. I shifted a bit, trying to sit up, but my body was incredibly stiff. I felt arms behind my shoulder pulling me up. Pain shot through my body at the movement, but I couldn’t open my mouth to cry out for fear that the wave of intense nausea would get the better of me. “This will help too. Drink.” I winced and tried to shake my head. It felt so heavy and my neck so weak that I couldn’t be sure it moved at all.

I felt glass touch my bottom lip, but I kept them screwed shut. “It is alright my dear, this will make you feel better.”

I relaxed my lips to allow them to be parted, but I still didn’t trust myself with opening my mouth fully. The bottle, and my head, tipped back slightly and an earthy liquid slowly filled my mouth. I couldn’t trust myself with swallowing and it pooled in my mouth until it dribbled down my chin. The bottle tilted back up slightly. “You need to drink it, dear,” coaxed the warm voice, gently. “You are in pain, but this will help take it away some.”

I tried to swallow it slowly, but there was too much liquid and it rushed down my throat, choking me. I coughed it up and felt the bile rise. The hand pulled away the bottle and another patted my back under the arm already supporting my shoulders. “Slowly, my dear. You must drink it all.”

I caught my breath and felt the bottle return. I slowly drank the liquid, taking a few breaths in between sips.

“You were found injured - near dead. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a couple of days. I have been taking care of you with the aid of a fellow mage.” She took the bottle from my lips and I heard it clink softly on a wooden surface nearby. “Thank you, Aiden. You can go eat now,” she said addressing someone else in the room.

"As you say, sister," replied a quiet, male voice above my head. There was some rustling and the arm holding my back guided me gently back to the pillow before disappearing. The door creaked open and clicked shut softly.

“How are you feeling now?” asked the maternal voice referred to as 'sister.'

With the pain receding, I realized I was in a lumpy bed that felt like it was simply a sheet stuffed with cotton and thick heavy blankets pressing down on my legs. “Why can’t I open my eyes?” I said, disappointed in how soft and weak it sounded. I couldn’t be sure she even heard me.

Thankfully, she did. “You are very weak, child. I am certain your strength will return soon. You are safe in the chantry. I am Sister Beatris. What can I call you?”

I finally caught on to a couple of her words that didn’t seem to fit. She mentioned a chantry and a mage. A vague memory came back of voices echoing off of stone walls mentioning a Herald and a Divine. Mages and Templars. Am I still dreaming?

“Your name?” she repeated, but her voice faltered. “Do you remember your name, child?”

Right, I reminded myself. She asked for my name. What was I supposed to tell her? I was apparently stuck in a crazy dream in the middle of Thedas and most likely in the middle of the biggest war of the Dragon Age series. If this was set during the events of Inquisition, I would find it very difficult to lie and create an alias in a world that I had a very surface level knowledge of. The truth… or some measure of it, would have to be best. 

I cleared my throat to cover up my hesitation, but was beginning to find it easier to speak. “Sophia. Sophia Darrow.” I had to stick with the truth. I couldn't completely make up a new name for myself - the chances of slipping up would in front of the wrong person would be dangerous.

“Darrow? Of the Starkhaven Darrows?” asked another voice in the room - this one sounded more Mediterranean. Too late, I realized my mistake. I had unintentionally tied myself to the family of Belinda Darrow, a templar from the multiplayer version of the game who would become an elite agent of the Inquisition. This would undoubtedly complicate things. I needed to figure out how to disconnect myself from any social ties that Josephine or Leliana would ferret out.

I hid my hesitation and stalled with a coughing fit. Once the first, fake cough left my lips, it quickly turned into a real fit that left me struggling to breathe. It also left me with little mental faculties to come up with a reasonable lie. Thankfully the sister put the bottle back to my lips once the fit subsided. “Here. Finish the potion.”

I was grateful for the stall, but the potion also seemed to work against the nausea and sharp pain as well. When I finished I took a deep breath and noticed that my lids became lighter. I opened them slowly. They felt glued shut and when they came apart, they were sticky. My lids started to flutter and finally I could see. The light in the room was a soft yellow and flickered often. I figured that it must have been candlelight. I appreciated the dim lighting though; it made it easier to adjust. For now all I could see were colors and blurred shapes, but it was slowly clearing.

I lifted onto my elbow slightly, fighting against the receding pain and fatigue. I cleared my throat and my voice came out stronger, louder. “I’m…” I hesitated and tried to pull out a reasonable lie that would separate me from Belinda. “I’m not certain where I'm from, I…”

I was interrupted by a gasp and the Mediterranean voice that I was certain belonged to Josephine Montilyet fussed a bit. “Have you lost your memory?”

I paused briefly to consider it. Josephine might believe it, but it was far too convenient for Leliana and possibly Cassandra. “No,” I replied, settling on a lie that fabricated a hazy past for a single mother who became estranged from any family ties - ones that I surely wouldn't know about if my pretend-mother was bitter enough about it. “It’s just that my mother never spoke of her family. I grew up in Denerim. It was just her and I, but I knew from her accent that she was from somewhere else.” I chose Ferelden for my own upbringing since most from the game seemed to have an accent similar to mine, and I remembered that Varric seemed to have an ear for accents.

“Do you know where your mother is? Surely you would like us to contact her and let her know that you are alright,” offered Josephine in a gentle voice.

My breath hitched in my throat. She would never reach my mother. If I was truly stuck in Thedas, then there was no way to reach her, or my father, or Jack. I suddenly felt like crying. Everyone and everything I knew was out of reach and now I seemed to be stuck in a world on the brink of oblivion where a figure of one religion wielded a weapon that would-be gods of two separate and ancient religions sought in order to unmake the world as they saw fit.

My lip quavered, but I knew I couldn’t keep her waiting. “You can’t. She… she died during the Blight.” For Thedas-born-Sophia that loss should be ten years old, but for me, the real me, the loss was brand new.

I felt Beatris’s arm tighten around me and I leaned into her, turning my face to her warm robes. Her hand rubbed small circles into my back just like my mother used to when I was little and afraid after waking from terrible nightmares. She was comforting me, but it brought me little and finally I could feel the tears come. I cried in silence for a few minutes until I heard someone clearing their throat.

“Were you a guest at the Conclave? Whose retinue were you part of?” This accent sounded French, but it wasn’t as soft and gentle as either sister Beatris or Josephine. This one was measured, calculating, and distinctly cold and detached. I lifted my head. If this truly was Thedas during the events of Inquisition, my blurry vision undoubtedly settled on one Sister Nightingale - the Left (and murderous) hand of the Divine. 

I was in trouble.

“The Conclave?” I shook my head. They could have records of all who were there, including their companions and servants... everyone. I shouldn’t, couldn’t lie about that. My memory also landed on the hazy conversations about voices and mages while I was still trying to regain consciousness. If she were to trust me, I needed to have nothing to do with the Conclave. “No, I wasn’t at the Conclave," I replied, trying to sound surprised at the question. "I was on my way to Haven to hear of the news from the Conclave, but… I never made it.”

“Where were you staying? How did you end up falling out of a rift near the Temple?”

I fell out of a rift? That would mean that I was in the Fade, that I arrived in Thedas through the Fade. How did I even get into the… The green light in the caves! I began to panic. How did a rift end up in New Zealand? Were there more? Was there a breach in my world? Did the Pacific Islands just become ground zero for a demonic invasion?

Suddenly I realized she was waiting for my answer, while probably reading the distress on my face and interpreting guilt. Breathe, Sophie, breathe, I reminded myself.

“I… I’m sorry I’m trying to remember,” I said stalling for time.

“It is alright, dear. Take your time,” said Beatris, who now appeared more clearly as she sat next to me. I couldn’t see her hair beneath the Chantry’s version of a wimple, but her face appeared lined and weathered. She must have been at least fifty years old. 

“It’s fine.” I took a breath and tried to decide on how much truth from my situation I should use and how much lie I could get away with. Would anyone really believe that I came from a world of no magic, but advanced science? Or would they call me mad, or worse abomination? I already made up a fake mother and a fake background in Denerim. I either needed to tell the entire truth now, or commit to the lie that I already began telling. I decided to keep lying, quickly creating a story for where I was and why, but deciding to at least keep a framework of the truth. The truth... I had been traveling with Jack. The lie... every-goddamned-thing else.

“I remember..." I stalled as I continued to form my lie, but looking up and trying to appear as though I was trying to piece together recent and chaotic events. "I remember deciding to travel to the Free Marches hoping to find my mother’s family. My fiancé and I lost our home near Redcliffe thanks to the fighting, so when we heard of the Divine's effort at peace with the Conclave, we decided to take a detour on our trip and travel to Haven to hear if this war would finally end.”

Leliana made a sound. I wondered if I should have used a term other than fiancé… perhaps it sounded too Orlesian. “Redcliffe? I thought you were from Denerim?” she asked accusingly. 

Fuck, she was quick, but I had to be quicker if I wanted to stay ahead of her. In order to win at her games, I needed to find a good reply that would also hopefully make her feel guilt for pressing so hard - or at the very least get the others on my side. I needed to add a little bit of trauma to the chaos of recent events. It wouldn't be too difficult to lie about, since being separated from everything I knew and everyone I loved and thrust into the middle of a war would be traumatic enough. I decided to pull from that pain. I replied confidently, but somewhat hurt. “Up until the Blight where I lost everything. I left for Gwaren, hoping to catch a ship back to the Free Marches since my mother often spoke of summers in Starkhaven. I hoped I would start my search for my family there.”

“How did you end up in Redcliffe?” asked Josephine, interested.

“I met Jack.” I replied simply.

“And he is your betrothed? Where is he? Why was he not with you?” questioned Leliana again, looking for holes in my story.

Josephine jumped in first. “Oh! Where is he now? Do you know? Would you like me to send for him?”

I thought that using Jack and keeping a little bit of the truth would be safe in case I slipped up talking about him later, but I suddenly regretted bringing him up. Whenever I thought about him, our last night together, his proposal in the caves, leaving him sleeping… I couldn’t believe I left him sleeping in the caves. With a sense of deep shame and regret, I realized that he would wake up and not know where I was or what happened to me. I buried my head in the sister’s robes and cried while she silently resumed rubbing my back.

“Oh. Oh dear. I am so sorry Lady Darrow,” fussed Josephine when she jumped to a conclusion about the whereabouts of my would-be husband.

I knew that Josephine concluded that he must be lost, injured, or dead. And the truth was that for all intents and purposes, he was dead. He didn’t exist in this world. I knew Josephine and Beatris would let me just sit here and cry, but if I stalled Leliana too long she would grow restless. I lifted my head and wiped my eyes. In my mind, I was forming a lie about the circumstances of our separation, but the loss was still very real. “We stopped at a tavern to eat somewhere near the western coast of Lake Calenhad before taking a detour to wait for news in Haven. While we were eating a band of templars came into the tavern. We thought they were just looking for a meal, but they wandered through the tables, eyes scanning the faces of everyone. Then they started to rip off hoods and knock hats off of people’s heads, pulling them back by their shoulders to force them to look up at them. After a time, they grew more agitated and started shouting for someone by name. He must have been a mage that they were looking for. 

“When no one spoke up, they started to break things, throwing mugs and plates of food, toppling benches and pushing people. Jack and I sat in the corner quietly waiting and hoping they would just leave, but for him the loss of our home was still too fresh and he was angry. He stood up and demanded that they leave. One of the templars then accused Jack of being a mage-sympathizer and they grabbed him and dragged him outside. I followed after them, shouting, trying to get them to leave us alone, to leave Jack alone. I tried to tell them that we were sympathizers, that our entire home and livelihood was destroyed. But they didn’t listen. They didn’t want to.” 

In my head I started to picture the scene unfolding. It was terrifying and my heart constricted as I imagined how I would have reacted in that moment. What was more frightening was my ability to quickly conjure up such a terrible and horrifying scenario, but I needed a trauma to appeal to their emotions.

I stared off into space as I pictured what happened next. “They threw him into the dirt and kicked at him over and over. He cried out for them to stop at first, but then one kicked him so hard in the stomach, he couldn’t even speak. He only let out strangled cries.” I looked back in the direction of Josephine and Leliana. “I jumped on one templar’s back and tried to get them to stop, but another pulled me off and threw me to the ground. Two of them turned their attention to me and talked about what they should do with me. I was a witness. Was I also a sympathizer who needed to be punished? Could they just let me go? Jack protested. He tried to get back to his feet, to get to me. They kicked him back to the ground, and one of them…” I closed my eyes and took a breath, and as I pictured the scene, I tried to transfer the pain and loss of my real situation onto my face. “One of them kicked him in the face. When he fell onto his back, the man just kept kicking and kicking until it became _stomping_. I could hear… Oh!” I stopped and allowed myself to cry, pulling from the loss of never seeing him again. “I tried to get to him. I tried to reach him, but when they dragged me onto my back, I panicked! I kicked them off and ran. I left him behind. I ran; Maker, I ran!”

“You don’t have to continue…” whispered Beatris as she gripped me tight.

I shook my head, leveled a stare in the direction of Leliana, my interrogator, hoping she still had some kindness left in her to feel empathy and continued, “I ran until I got lost in the woods. I saw a light ahead and I don’t know why, but I had hoped to find someone, anyone, who could help me. When I got to the light, it was…” I shook my head. “I don’t know what it was. It was like nothing I’ve seen before. It was like a hole in the night. A window to another world. I heard this crackling and then… then nothing. I woke up here.”

I continued to stare towards Leliana, hoping I made some sort of impact, before turning back to the comfort and safety of the sister’s robes and let myself feel honest emotion. “Oh!” I cried out, hesitating on the word _God_. “I left him… He’s gone. Oh, Jack... he’s gone!” 

I cried for Jack, I cried for my family, I cried for the broken pieces of my life that I was just getting back. I cried for myself. I cried until what little energy I had dissipated, and I fell asleep leaning against Beatris.


	3. Hands of a Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that not even Haven is immune to issues surrounding overcrowding and improper hygiene and planning. Sophia's skills from back home get put to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title doesn't come from the Chant of Light, but I prefer this one and cringed at the thought of spending several hours combing through all those verses just to find something to fit...
> 
> Tags were updated with this chapter.

For the first two days since waking up, I never left the small room they kept me in. I had no idea where I was and didn’t recognize the space. It reminded me more of a room within a convent. It was small and sparsely furnished. I was terrified that if I left the room any move I made would be scrutinized and that they would find me out. Beatris must have assumed it was some sort of depression because she would visit me often, bringing me food, and trying get me to eat. She also tried to cheer me up with gossip from the village. She rarely brought up my story of the attack. Finally, I discovered that when they found me I wasn't wearing my wetsuit anymore but my swim shorts and bikini top that I had worn underneath it. I didn’t realize this at the time, but when I told my story about what had happened before I entered the rift, they took the story of the attack in more earnest since they believed I was found in what they assumed were my smallclothes. Very strange-looking smallclothes, but smallclothes nonetheless. Beatris must have assumed more happened that night than I had told them.

She came to visit me several times just to tell me what her day was like tending to the sick and wounded and how since the Herald's return from the Breach, Haven has seen more and more people flocking to the village each day. She also asked me questions about my life in Denerim and Redcliff and at first I was sure she was spying on me for Leliana, trying to ferret out a lie, so I was guarded. I told her nothing that could reasonably be looked into in regards to my life in Denerim and for Redcliff, I felt a little safer telling her that I lived in a house along the King’s Road under the shadow of Fort Connor since those homes were now destroyed. I also decided to keep other aspects of my identity similar to my real life and told her that I was being trained as a healer under the tutelage of a master who lived at the Crossroads. I recalled that their healer was killed during the recent fights and that the Herald would need to persuade one to move from Redcliffe village so it should have been safe to bring up. While I felt it was safer to stay close to the truth, more than that I wanted to make sure they understood that I could be useful. I had my training as a nurse and my education towards becoming a Nurse Practitioner that would most likely be centuries ahead of the kind of medicine they’d practice here. If I could prove useful, maybe they wouldn’t question my background as much.

I also hoped that it would connect me more with Beatris, the only person in Haven who seemed to care about my welfare since I woke up. I hadn’t seen any of the advisers since that first day. But I suppose I couldn’t put all the blame on them since I never left my room and they probably all thought that I was grieving alone. In a way I was. It was very difficult for me to cope with the fact that I would quite possibly never see my friends or family again. It also hurt me to imagine how my family had just gotten me back only for me to completely disappear. Thinking about the pain and fear they were going through hurt more than my own loss; it was a gnawing guilt that I had trouble coming to terms with. While the others figured they would give me some space to work through my feelings, Beatris refused to leave me in solitude - something that I resented her for at first, but came to cherish as time went on.

On the morning of the third day she came into my tiny cloistered room with a plate of bread and jam. Her demeanor was different. She walked with purpose and she seemed to be thinking to herself. She sat down at the small writing desk, broke the bread in half and handed me a piece. I nibbled on it silently while she spread hers with jam. She chewed thoughtfully for a few moments watching me carefully. I used this time to regard her carefully as well. In many ways she reminded me of my mother, though she was probably older. She had such kind eyes, but they were also dangerous. She looked at me sometimes and I felt like she just  _ knew  _ things.

She put down her bread and cleared her throat. “I think it's time you got out of this small room, Sophia. Will you join me today? Maybe helping to heal others will bring you some healing yourself.”

The idea of leaving the room was frightening at first, but then the prospect of doing something familiar - caring for others - was enticing. I looked up at her, put down my bread, took a deep breath, and replied, “I think that would be a good idea.”

She clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! You can help me see to the sick and I can find out how much you really learned in the Hinterlands,” she said with a wink.

She helped me get dressed for the second time this week. Since I had been in my room alone, I usually just wore a simple shift I had been dressed in ever since I woke up, but really I didn’t know exactly how to even dress. I was hoping for a dress like the shift I was wearing, but I was chided by Beatris when I even suggested wearing something like that outside of the privacy of my room. Apparently "proper Orlesian dress" required that I put on all these pieces and layers of 'enhancers' and skirts before being fitted with a bodice and  _ several _ skirts over that. I feigned weakness in my limbs to get Beatris to help me figure it all out  _ again _ . I wasn’t sure how long I could use that excuse however. I needed to learn to dress myself. I paid close attention this time as she helped me.

When we finally left, I immediately felt like going back into my room and hiding. As soon as I stepped out of the hall that led into the main chantry area that I finally recognized from the game, everyone nearby turned to stare at me. It was discomforting being under their scrutiny. I felt like they were either suspicious of me, or waiting to see if I’d become an abomination or perform a miracle. To them I was something foreign and exotic; I came from the Fade. Some looked on me with fear and others with interest, but none of them looked at me like I was human. I hated it.

Beatris sensed my discomfort and placed her arm in mine, pulling me along. She turned to those watching and let out a cheery greeting, but I could sense the polite scolding tone underneath. “Good morning, sisters! Lots to do today,” she reminded with a pointed look.

The others took the hint beneath her greeting and quickly resumed their duties and hushed conversations while we walked through the chantry. I tried to ignore the stares while Beatris led me through the village, but it was much worse out there and this time she didn't have some sort of seniority like she had with the sisters to stave off the quite conspicuous staring. I began to get a real idea of how the Herald must have felt the first time he walked through Haven even though they surely did not blame me for the Divine’s death as they had initially blamed him. At least I hoped they didn't blame me. I don't think I'd have been allowed out of my room if they did.

We walked over to a slightly longer cabin to the northeast of the chantry that didn't actually exist in the game. When we approached a guard that was standing by the door stopped us. “Only Chantry sisters are allowed past this point. There are sick inside,” he warned, looking directly at me.

“I’m here to help,” I offered.

The guard shook his head. “I'm sorry; its not safe. Commander's orders.”

“Its alright, Nik,” assured Beatris, but it didn’t seem to help.

He looked at her uneasy. “Perhaps she should help Master Adan with the less ill?”

Beatris fixed him with a stern look. “She will be safe with me. The Commander has allowed it.” This seemed to placate the guard who nodded and stepped to the side. I felt a little uneasy as we entered, wondering why they needed a guard to keep people out.

“Is it a plague?” I whispered softly, trying to not be heard by others.

Beatris shook her head. “Nothing as serious as that, but this illness spreads and some, unfortunately, do not recover. Come.” She walked over to an empty basin and waited for the other sister in the room to bring over a kettle from the fire. 

The other sister glanced at us as we came in. “Adan brought some more of the mixture,” she said gripping the handle of the kettle with a thick cloth and carrying it over and indicating the clay pitcher next to Beatris with a nod of her head. 

Beatris and the other sister began to recite from the Chant of Light. As they did, the other sister poured steamy water from the kettle into the basin and Beatris poured in a thick liquid from the pitcher.

_ “Many are those who wander in sin, _

_ Despairing that they are lost forever, _

_ But the one who repents, who has faith _

_ Unshaken by the darkness of the world, _

_ And boasts not, nor gloats _

_ Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight _

_ In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know _

_ The peace of the Maker's benediction. _

_ The Light shall lead her safely _

_ Through the paths of this world, and into the next. _

_ For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. _

_ As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, _

_ She should see fire and go towards Light. _

_ The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, _

_ And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker _

_ Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.” _

When they finished the chant, they dipped their hands into the hot water and rubbed them together, a white foam appearing. Beatris must have poured in a type of soap to create the suds that they were now rubbing into their hands. I began to put together the guard and his reluctance to allow just anyone to enter. The Chantry had been seeing to the sick and wounded for centuries. In that time they must have developed rituals and habits that to some may have appeared to be divine protection, but really they just developed methods to keep themselves or others safe. In this specific case it was hand hygiene. The fact that the Chantry developed successful methods like this through religious ritual most likely cemented their power in terms of medicine and healing unlike what happened to superstition and prayer during The Black Death during the Middle Ages.

Beatris turned to me expectantly and I slowly approached, silently asking for permission. She nodded to the basin and I washed my hands. I would have preferred they switch out the water, but at least they had soap. The water was extremely warm and it left my hands a bright shade of pink and the ratio of soap to water left my hands feeling like they had a film coating them after.

Beatris and the other sister approached a row of cots, each one full with a sweaty, groaning man. I followed, discretely drying off my hands with my skirts. Beatris stood by one bedside and turned to me. “Tell me what you think is wrong with the man,” she requested with a wave of her hand. She was testing me.

“May I know more of his symptoms?”

Beatris nodded. “Certainly. It started a few days ago with stomach pain and progressed to an involuntary purging through vomit and a watery excrement. As you can see he is still in pain.”

Looking at him I started to guess at what it could be that affected the soldiers and villagers, but I wanted to complete my assessment first to be sure. 

His eyes appeared sunken and he panted slightly between his moans. I knelt down and felt his pulse. I counted silently in my head; it was elevated. His neck felt warm and I moved my hand to his forehead. It too felt warm. Whether it was from fever or the warm fire, I wasn’t sure without being able to get a proper temperature. I brought the side of my head close to his mouth and nose to listen to his breathing. I didn’t want to get too close in case he got sick again, but without a stethoscope, this would have to do. His breath sounds were clear, but accelerated. I pinched at the skin on his forearm and watched the blood rush away from the spot where I pressed. I removed my fingers and waited to see how long it would take for the color to return. It was then that I also noticed that his skin was dry while the others were still sweating. The only symptom that didn't fit the diagnosis I was forming was the presence of red welts on his abdomen.

I stood and turned to the sisters. “When did he get sick?”

“He came to us a few days ago, but he felt ill before then. He was one of the first to fall ill.”

I turned back to the man. “Sir, how would you describe your stomach pain?” He didn’t answer. He only moaned deliriously.

Beatris answered for him. “Most describe it as a squeezing and wrenching pain.”

They were describing cramps. “When he defecates, is there blood?”

The other sister nodded. “They all have it,” she confirmed. 

Beatris smiled gently. It seems I passed her test. But I had a feeling they didn't understand the full extent of what was making them ill and how it could have been easily prevented. I questioned further to find the source of the infection.

“What do the servants do with the chamberpots from the Chantry? And how do the villagers and soldiers deal with their waste?”

Beatris cocked her head to the side, not expecting this line of questioning. My assumptions about their true understanding of the illness seemed to be correct. “The villagers use chamber pots too and they are usually emptied in the alleys away from the main streets. The soldiers will empty theirs out into the woods.”

“Do they bury it? Do they go near any water sources?”

Beatris and the other sister looked troubled. “I… I don’t know,” said Beatris. “Sophia, why--”

I shook my head and kept going. “Do you know what kind of water these men drank from?”

“It gets pulled up from the lake. We all drink water pulled from the lake,” responded the other sister.

“The lake?” I thought back trying to remember if there was a sufficient source of water flow leading to or from the lake, but in my memory the entire thing was frozen. “Isn't it frozen?”

“There are spots by the shore where it is weak enough to break and draw in water.”

“Are there no other sources of water? How do people bathe?”

“Most will cart up the same water to use for washing. I did with this water. Some will drink from a spring in the mountains, but it can be difficult to get to so that supply is limited and usually reserved for the ambassador’s guests.”

Beatris cut in. “Some of the soldiers will quickly dip into the cold water when they are feeling warm during training.”

My head snapped back to her quickly. “Do they do this when they are feverish too?” 

Beatris nodded.

"I know what it is," I confirmed in a grave tone. "It will spread by--”

“We all know it. It's a common illness,” interrupted the other sister, growing impatient, walking forward with a covered bowl. She knelt by the man and uncovered the bowl revealing leeches. The welts suddenly made sense.

“Stop!” I cried pulling the bowl out of her hands.

“What's the meaning of this! This man is sick and he needs those to recover!” She reached for the bowl, but I turned to Beatris and gave it to her, eyes pleading.

“Please, sister. Believe me. I know what is making this man sick and using leeches will not help him.”

“He has the flux,” she offered gently.

“I call it dysentery. Its spread by consuming traces of infected excrement.”

Beatris’ eyes widened in disgust. 

“What?!” cried the other sister reaching over my shoulder for the bowl. “No! It is caused by an excess of blood in the liver!” She pulled out a leech to gently place over the man’s abdomen. 

“Sister Lavinia, wait,” called Beatris. “Let us listen to what she has to say.” 

I sighed with relief. “Thank you,” I whispered and took the bowl back from the fuming sister. “First, there is no real cure for dysentery, or the flux as you call it. You can really only treat it by managing his illness and making sure he doesn't succumb to the symptoms. The body needs water to survive, and every time he vomits or has diarrhea, he is losing water - too much water. He is not sweating when the others still are…”

“We took that as a sign of recovery,” offered Beatris.

I shook my head gravely. “He’s not sweating because he has lost so much water that his body can't produce it in his sweat. His skin takes too long to recover its color,” I said pinching his arm again and showing them. “His eyes are sunken, and his heartrate and breathing are racing. These are signs that he is severely dehydrated and will die if we do not give him water. I would prefer to do it through an IV, but we don’t have the tools here to do it, so we will have to try other methods to rehydrate him. Sister,” I turned to Lavinia. “Can you boil some cloth and water? Let the water cool slightly then dip the cloth in it and let him suck on it. Do not let him drink water straight from a bowl or cup. He will most likely get sick and vomit it all back up if he does.” I turned to Beatris. “Can you have someone prepare all these men a stew made from bone broth, and any or all of these ingredients.” I ticked off as many ingredients as I could remember that could help restore electrolytes or provide essential nutrition. I also tried to pull from what I knew about Thedas herbology based on the Codex entries. “On top of those, add some sliced root of elfroot and some dried spindleweed. Also make sure they don't drink any water that has not been boiled first.”

Beatris nodded and went to the door, opened it slightly, spoke with the guard then shut it, coming back. 

When she returned, I continued, “All we can do for them is to keep them hydrated and nourished with water and stews. Some may recover easily, but some like this man will need care.”

“Such strange things this woman says,” grumbled Lavinia from the fireplace.

“We will trust her guidance for now, Lavinia. If it works then it is more than we had hoped for this man.”

“Thank you for trusting me, Beatris. Now let’s talk about how to prevent this from happening again. First things first, since this is spreading quickly through the village, everyone should boil their water before consuming it, wash their hands frequently but  _ especially  _ after going to the bathroom-”

Lavinia interrupted again, “Why would they wash after  _ bathing _ ?”

I paused and mentally slapped myself. I had grown so accustomed to the phrase that I didn’t even realize it was figurative anymore. “Sorry, I meant after they relieve themselves. And for goodness' sake, we need to talk to those in charge about digging latrines for the soldiers and wells for natural groundwater.”

* * *

Over the next couple of days, work began in the village to do as I suggested. Apparently Cullen had been fighting for those improvements for sometime, but Josephine struggled with allocating the funds to make the task a priority. Once Beatris requested it for the health of the village in general, it suddenly became a top priority. The illness slowed its pace and many recovered. The man I assessed thankfully also seemed to be improving within the next several days; he wasn't in the clear yet, but at least his color returned and his heartrate had slowed. The soldiers got to work digging pits for communal latrines and people were warned to wash their hands often. The hand-washing was the most difficult rule for many to follow, and it was understandable with limited access to warm, running water. After helping them, I was allowed some freedom in exploring Haven and making myself useful, and I continued to help the sisters in dealing with the sick and wounded. 

The village was surprisingly larger than I had expected. It was still walled off by both recently constructed palisades and the naturally occurring rock walls, but there were more huts, closely packed together creating winding back streets and alleys that were easy to get lost in. I would have characterized Haven as a small town rather than a village by appearances. It was also very wet and very muddy. The snow would melt during the day, especially where foot traffic was heaviest, but then it would refreeze overnight creating an illusion in the morning of smooth ground that would crack under the pressure of footsteps. In some places, you merely suffered some water splashing your boots. In others, you would find a hole of cold muddy water up to your ankles.

Outside the village, I could see more tents than I was expecting. I wasn’t allowed to leave the village proper so my exploration consisted only of what I could see through the gates. Today, however, I would get to leave them. Though I couldn’t really enjoy it as I was racing behind Beatris. A recruit was doing shield drills when another recruit hit him very hard. Apparently a mage’s healing spells were not working and he announced that nothing was broken before walking off. According to the messenger, however, he certainly _l_ _ ooked  _ broken. 

We pushed through a crowd of soldiers and when we finally broke through my heart felt like it skipped several beats - and it wasn’t from the running. I had not yet actually  _ seen _ any of the major characters of Inquisition except for Josephine and Leliana, and that didn’t count since everything was dark and blurry. But now, I was standing face to face, or rather face to breastplate, with one Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition.

No amount of digital graphics could accurately portray what stood in front of me now in the flesh. He was a broad-shouldered man - or at least what appeared to be broad shoulders beneath the breastplate and heavy mantle he wore - who stood with such grace and refinement it was hard to imagine him not in a leadership position. He kept his shoulders back and his head straight. I could just see my father proudly placing a book on top of his head and pointing to him as an example of the kind of stature that I constantly failed to carry myself with. His presence was so commanding that it was actually very intimidating, and I found myself avoiding his gaze so that I didn't end up staring longer than was polite. He looked over at Beatris and nodded gratefully at our entrance. “Sister, thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Commander,” she replied before pulling my attention back by hooking her arm in mine and urging me closer. “Have you seen an injury like this?”

“The mage wasn’t able to heal it?” I asked confused. I understood now why the mage said nothing was broken, but it also shouldn’t have been difficult to heal.

Cullen broke in. “Healing spells really only work to close wounds, mend muscles or broken bones. The mage said he didn’t break anything, so he couldn’t help him like this.”

“Right. Well, he was correct; it isn’t broken. The bone has simply popped out of its socket.”

“Correct. Do you know how to put it back?” asked Beatris like a teacher training a pupil. I nodded and both she and Cullen stepped back while I crouched down next to the recruit holding his arm on the ground. He was breathing heavily through clenched teeth.

“Hello, my name is Sophia. What's yours?” I asked calmly and gently.

He grunted out a short response, “Cillian.”

“Right, Cillian. I’m going to need you to let go of your arm now,” I said placing my hand over his, not pushing, but resting it gently over his fingers. He refused at first, but I kept my hand there and waited. When his grip released slightly, I guided his non-injured hand back down to rest at his side. “I know it hurts, but I need you to relax please. Try to resist the urge to squeeze or clench your muscles.” He closed his eyes and nodded quickly. I gently grabbed his wrist with one hand and slipped my palm under his elbow. I lifted his arm by the wrist while keeping his elbow and upper arm in place. Once I had his hand up in the air at a 90-degree angle with his upper arm and elbow, I slowly pulled his forearm down towards the ground to the left of his body. 

He gasped and I stopped, holding his elbow and forearm firmly. “Take a deep breath, Cillian, and don’t clench.” He screwed his eyes shut and nodded. “Take a breath,” I repeated. “Don’t hold it.” I made sure to use his name often to keep his attention and hopefully sound more friendly. He finally complied and released his breath quickly. “Hey. Look at me.” I waited for him to open his eyes. “I want you to breathe through your nose, slowly, and count with me. Don’t stop breathing in until I tell you.” He nodded. “Now breathe in. One, two, three, four. Good. Now out slowly through your mouth. One, two, three, four. Good. Now keep doing that. Focus on your breathing.” I waited for him to do it on his own a couple times before resuming.

I continued guiding his forearm down to the ground with his elbow still at a 90-degree angle. When I laid it flat on the ground, I brought it back up and kept moving his forearm towards his abdomen. He cried out and pulled against my hands. “Damn,” I cursed gently and felt his shoulder to find the joint still prominently poking out. “Cillian, that method didn’t work. I’m going to try a different one, alright?” Again, he only nodded quickly in acknowledgment. He was beginning to sweat. “Don’t hold your breath or clench,” I reminded him. He quickly resumed his breathing.

I brought his forearm back down towards the ground before moving my hand on his elbow to just below his armpit, my thumb pressing firmly into his side. I began to slowly rotate his arm up towards his head, keeping it still parallel to the ground. Finally, I felt the shift in my hand, and Cillian cried out once more, but it was quickly replaced by a relieved groan. I placed my hand behind his back and helped lift him to a sitting position. Cullen stooped down next to me and wrapped his arm around his waist, helping him to his feet. I firmly stabilized his shoulder while he did this to be safe.

“You’ll need to keep his arm in a sling for a couple weeks so it doesn’t pop out again. After that it might take months of rehabilitation for him to get full range of motion back.”

Beatris smiled gently at me while Cullen led the recruit away and the crowd dissipated. “He won’t need that. Now that his shoulder has been restored, the mage can properly heal the damage done and he should be feeling better in a few days.”

“Oh...” In many ways Thedas was so primitive compared to home, but magic seemed to do so much for them. Sometimes in ways that made me envious. How much simpler our lives could have been if many injuries could just be healed with magic. No more need for physical therapy and the trauma that comes from losing the function of our bodies. But things in Thedas weren’t perfect. Their over-reliance on magic - even when they are fully persecuting magic and its users - set them back in terms of development. They had several thousands of years of history filled with disease, famine, war, slavery, and Blights that constantly arrested their progress. Sure things were similar back home, but one major difference is the absence of magic and its influence on medicine, war, politics, and culture. Also, we didn’t have the demons either. That was also most likely a significant factor.

“That was very good, Sophia. You were trained well. The Maker has certainly blessed us with your presence. I'm glad we found you when we did.”

“As am I,” added Cullen who made his way back over after dropping off his recruit. “He is being seen to by a mage now and he should recover soon. I have never seen it been done like that - its much less forceful. Thank you for your help, Lady Sophia.”

“Just Sophia, please,” I replied chancing a glance at his face. My initial assessment of his strength and grace didn’t hold up as much under further scrutiny. While he still held himself with a well-assured stance and graceful disposition, his face told a different story. His light brown eyes remained vibrant and looked like wildflower honey, but they were fixed in a face that seemed sunken and tired. The scar across his lip actually stood out much more than I expected and it extended all the way up to the bottom of his cheekbone. I always envisioned it to appear as a silver line that really only stood out predominantly across his lip, but the one he sported must have occured from a deeper cut across the face since it left a slightly sunken line across his skin. It also didn’t seem to be treated well either if the slightly jagged interruption of his lip line was anything to go by. His hair, which I always imagined to be well-kept, actually had many stray strands that broke free from his swept-back style and fluttered around in the cold, mountain air. I wondered about how many restless nights he spent with his fingers splayed through his hair and clutching his head.

“Sophia?” asked Beatris, gently touching my arm. I jerked out of my thoughts and shook my head, realizing that they were talking to me.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” I looked down, ashamed at having been caught staring.

“It is alright, dear,” she consoled. “I was just introducing you to the Commander of the Inquisition, Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford.”

“And I reminded Sister Beatris that I am no longer in the Order and shouldn’t be addressed as such,” he repeated to the sister who merely waved her hand at him dismissively. He turned his eyes back to me and my chest clenched at the direct attention. “And then I said that you must be the one who finally got the Ambassador to allocate enough resources to establish more suitable conditions for my recruits.”

I blushed at his praise. “That she did,” beamed Beatris. “She is fast becoming my star pupil.”

“I’m sorry I just got lost in my own thoughts,” I added, trying to change the subject away from me.

“Our apologies, Commander. She does that a lot,” she added with a chuckle.

“I do?” I asked mortified, nearly missing Cullen’s husky chuckle that made my insides do flips. Then I remembered how Jack used to tease me about my ‘reveries’ all the time, and suddenly I felt like my body had been drenched by cold water. I had gotten so caught up with meeting someone who weeks ago only existed in fiction and digital art and shamelessly admiring him, that I momentarily forgot about the circumstances that brought me here and everything I had left behind. 

Before me, I had the chance to have an actual conversation with Cullen. Both of them seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the opportunity. The pain of loss and guilt crushed my chest and I didn’t want to start crying in front of them both, so I gave them a hasty “Excuse me” and I ran all the way back to the chantry, ignoring Beatris calling after me.

I burst into my tiny room and threw myself on the cot and cried. I was so angry with myself for being excited, for finding a friend in Beatris, and for actually beginning to adjust to life in Thedas. I felt like I had given up on going home or seeing my family again, like I’d given up on Jack just when I was beginning to feel like we’d find our normal again.

I missed him so much. From the time we’d begun dating in earnest, I wasn’t used to being apart from him for so long and certainly not with the uncertainty of ever seeing him again. My chest clenched tightly when I realized that this must have been how he felt after my attack. From my snatched memories in dreaming, I could recall moments of fear, loneliness, and dread, but those memories paled in comparison to how it felt now. 

At least I had the certainty of knowing where Jack was, but that certainty ended there. Could my world have its own Breach? Was he safe? How would my world be able to handle a sudden magical rip in its reality? Could science have an answer for it? Would they be able to fight back and close it? Would I be stranded here if they did?

Where was Jack in all of this? Even if the demons hadn’t found the rift into my world, what must he be thinking? He just got me back two months ago and I just up and disappeared while he was napping. Would he think I’d drowned? Would he think I’d left him?

I rolled off my cot and sat on the floor, clutching at the bed linens, wringing them in my hands. Would he wait for me this time? It seemed that Jack was always waiting for me, ever since the day we met.

It was in our university library that we spoke for the first time. I had seen him in some of my earlier undergrad courses - in those required classes every student had to take that were so large they filled an entire lecture hall. I’d captured glimpses of him in the crowd of faces, but his always stood out to me. His dark eyes looked like ocean depths that stood out in stark contrast to his pale complexion and strawberry blonde hair. But what separated him most from the sea of faces surrounding him was that in those momentary glimpses, his mesmerizing eyes would be looking straight at me. In those moments that I caught his gaze, I could feel the sudden burst of fluttering activity in my gut and the heat rush to my face as I tried to look away so as to not get caught looking back.

The first time we spoke, I was arguing with one of the student clerks who worked at the reservation desk. I requested a book to complete my psychology assignment, and I had just received an email that it was available. But when I got to the desk to pick it up there had apparently been an error in their system. There was only one book and someone had reserved it before me. I stood arguing with him for five minutes. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but panic had set in. I’d been waiting on the book for a week and I only had three days left until my paper was due.

A line had formed behind me and a woman about three people back angrily told me to hurry it up. I spun to retort but my words were cut off when I noticed Jack was also waiting in line directly behind me. He smiled gently in a way that completely disarmed me and sent a creeping blush up my neck. He waved shyly before taking a step forward. “May I?” he asked gently, gesturing to the clerk.

I nodded and stepped to the side to allow him space to approach the counter. He smiled at him with the same disarming smile that he wielded against me and greeted him. “Hi, I’m here to pick up my book. It’s under Jack Evans.”

The clerk’s eyes widened and he looked back and forth between the two of us before he pulled out the book that I’d been waiting on and scanned it out to him. It felt like my heart dropped deep into my stomach. I was flooded with embarrassment and a stronger wave of panic. He was in the same class, had the same assignment due, and most likely chose to write on the same subject and here he was listening to me fight the poor clerk to take his book that he rightfully deserved. I was mortified.

When he finished checking it out he turned to me with the same smile that only made my embarrassment worse. “I’m sorry for being such an ass; I needed it for an assignment and I panicked,” I offered in explanation.

“The behaviors paper?” he asked, and I nodded. He held out the book. “Here.”

I gaped at him. “But your paper…”

He shrugged. “I’m still working through the journals for it. I have time before I need it. You can use it first and then return it me.” I reached out for it, but a thought seemed to come to him and he pulled it back. My stomach dropped again. “How about tomorrow night? You can return it and we can discuss our papers. How about over dinner?” he asked with a crooked smile that showed the dimple on his left cheek. He lowered the book into my still outstretched hand.

A blush spread across my chest and face, but I returned the smile. “Sure.”

* * *

I stayed in my room and sulked for a while, stuck in my memories of Jack and our early relationship while at university, but I knew I couldn’t stay locked in there hiding. If I wanted to survive, or better yet, if I wanted to find a way home - back to Jack - I would need to prove my worth first, and then get close enough to those who could help me find a way back, like Solas and the Herald. I pulled myself up from the floor and left the chantry. After our first outing, Beatris stopped bringing me meals to my room, but instead encouraged me to eat with the sisters in the chantry or to mingle with the townspeople and recruits in the tavern. I still felt a little embarrassed by my display that afternoon in front of Cullen and Beatris, so I decided to avoid her and opted for the tavern instead.

When I entered the tavern, I stepped to the side and quietly scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be getting used to my presence here and few looked up at my entrance. Much like Haven itself, the tavern was larger than depicted in the game, but not by much. It was furnished somewhat haphazardly with what seemed to be any and every table and chair they could find. In the corner there was a small empty table where I could sit alone by the fire. I walked up to the counter where Flissa flirted with a couple of recruits. When she saw me approach she placed her hand on one man’s arm and said something quietly before winking at him then making her way over to me. “Good evening, Lady Sophia. Would you like some dinner? It’s mutton stew again I’m afraid.”

“Flissa, you don’t have to call me that, and your stew is wonderful.”

“Flatterer,” she said as she laid down a bowl and a cup of mead with a wink. “But it works. Enjoy your dinner, Sophie.”

I cocked my head to the side. She was the first to use that nickname, but back home my family and friends used it all the time. Sophia always felt so formal and made me feel old… hearing it here made me feel a little more like myself. I smiled at her warmly and left her to continue her conversation with the recruit waiting patiently for her to return.

The table I was eyeing was still vacant so I made myself comfortable while the bitter chill settled in my heart again. Getting close to Beatris and Flissa over the last couple of days helped me feel normal again, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty for even attempting to make friends or feel normal. This wasn’t normal and instead of making friends or coping, I should have been focused on finding a way back home. But I had no idea how to do that except for hoping I could retrace my steps back through the Fade. 

There were two major problems with that plan, however. First, I couldn’t even remember my first trip through the Fade. One moment I was in New Zealand and the next I was waking up in the chantry, feeling like I had just died. The second problem was that I had no idea how to even get back into the Fade without the mark. If I managed to insert myself on the same path with the Herald’s or join his group then perhaps I could manage to get back to the Fade at Adamant, but that also presented some problems. I was banking my future on the hope that my memories would be restored there like the Herald’s and I’d learn how to get home, but my memory had been pretty faulty of late as it was and assuming that the loss was because of the Fade could blow up in my face. Then there was even getting to Adamant. How could I participate in one of the game’s bloodiest battles when I had no idea how to fight? Maybe they’d let me go with them as a combat medic if I continued to prove myself. But the biggest and most pressing problem was that none of them still fully trusted me yet. Maybe enough to remove the guard from my door and allow me to walk around Haven, but not enough to leave me unattended.

Leliana’s scouts were good. Very good, but when I knew what to look for, I knew I was still being watched. I turned to look back at Flissa who laughed and spoke with the recruit, but I didn’t miss the subtle glances she turned my way. I already knew she passed information along to Leliana. Some of her initial friendliness was most likely a way to get me comfortable and open up, but I didn’t hold it against her. She was easy to talk to and she genuinely listened, even if it was to report on what I said. In truth, I was using her too by telling her of my troubles and my life in a way to garner sympathy and understanding which I actually hoped she  _ would  _ pass on. I had already practiced my story on Beatris. It was much easier to tell my tall tales to an intermediary than to allow Leliana to scrutinize my story in person.

How could I get them to trust me and see me as one of their own if I couldn’t bring myself to become a part of this world? But then I hated myself every time I noticed that I acclimated to Thedas just a little more. I took a deep breath and sat up straighter. I resolved myself to find a way to get back home, but first, I needed to become a part of this world in order to get the help I needed to get out of it. I worked out a compromise between the two warring parts of my heart and mind - the part that resented my situation and just wanted to go home with the part that desperately needed to connect and find peace. For now we’d arrived at a tenuous truce - I would let myself adjust, if not for gaining their trust then at least to survive here mentally and physically, but I would not let myself truly get attached or ever let any of them in enough to really know me. All of this was only temporary.

Just as I’d settled this dispute with myself, my resolve was put to the test. Someone cleared their throat nearby and I looked up to realize he was standing next to me waiting to get my attention. It was Cullen. My eyes widened in shock at seeing him, his honey-colored eyes sparkling in the firelight. I also noticed he no longer wore the furs and beneath his burgundy coat, he wore a cream-colored tunic instead of his breastplate. He smiled gently, but cautiously and I reminded myself to return it.

“Another reverie?”

My smile fell as the word made me think of Jack again. I missed him; I knew we needed a lot of work, but he knew me and accepted me and was willing to wait for me to figure myself out.

Cullen’s smile also fell and he quickly sat down across the small table and leaned forward. His voice was soft, but I could hear the embarrassment in it. “Maker, I’m sorry. I was just coming to apologize for this afternoon and here I am doing it again…”

I stared at him in confusion for a few moments while he continued on. “I’m not very good at… small talk. I was trying to thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve been here such a short time, but you’ve done a lot for my men. But I just can’t seem to…” he sighed. Bless his heart, he was rambling. Cullen was sitting across from me and he was rambling. He looked at me pleadingly, most likely wishing I would just stop him, but I stared. Partly because, for the life of me, I still couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. “I meant no offense earlier, I just… am in the habit of sticking my foot in my mouth it seems.”

“Commander,” I said, finally stopping him. “What are you talking about?”

“You...? You didn’t feel that Beatris and I were having fun at your expense?”

I paled. He was talking about when I made an ass of myself by running away from them so they didn’t see me cry. He thought he hurt my feelings. “You mean the teasing when I got lost in my head? No! I mean, yes, clearly you were teasing, but I didn’t take offense to that!”

Cullen released a breath and sat straighter. “Then earlier…?” He left his question unspoken, unsure of himself.

“When I ran?” He nodded. I sighed and pulled my mug close, looking down at the amber liquid. I took a big gulp and put it back down, pressing both hands firmly around it. “You reminded me of someone. He used to tease me for getting lost in my own thoughts too. He called them my ‘reveries’ also.”

“‘Used to’?” I nodded silently, keeping my eyes on my mug. “I’m sorry. Were you… close?”

“I was going to marry him...” When I heard myself say it out loud I suddenly realized that I had made up my mind and the uncertainty I had felt about saying yes to Jack’s second proposal was gone. I knew with certainty that if I got the chance to see him again, I would forgive him for everything I could or couldn’t remember and just move on and make a future instead of worrying about the past. And this realization made my heart break all over again.

I saw Cullen’s hand move out further across the table before jerking back. When he spoke it was almost a whisper. “What happened to him?”

I looked up at him. “You don’t know?”

It was his turn to look confused. “Why would I?”

I shook my head. “I just figured the Ambassador or the Spymaster would have told you by now.”

“The only thing they told me about you was that you were not near Haven when you encountered a rift and got pulled into the Fade. They didn’t say more. They said it was not their story to tell. Was that how you were separated?” I nodded. I actually felt touched that Leliana hadn’t told him, but then a darker part of my mind suggested that was most likely because she still didn’t believe the story herself. “Could he still be out there? Can we help you find him?”

Everyone who found out wanted to deny the possibility of him truly being lost and help me reunite with him, as if ensuring my reunion would bring themselves some extra solace or hope. If only they knew how impossible that would be. No one would believe me if I told them the truth, so as far as Thedas was concerned, Jack was another casualty to this cruel war. I let my eyes drift back down to my hands cupping the mug and pulled them closer to my chest. I shook my head then squeezed my eyes shut to prevent the tears, but all I succeeded in doing was pushing some out.

“Lady Sophia… I am so sorry.” I hated it when everyone called me that. I hated more that I was crying again. Earlier with Leliana and Josephine it had been necessary. Now I just felt weak.

I wiped my cheeks and looked back up at him. When I spoke my voice was thick with unshed tears. “Commander, please stop calling me Lady. I’m not a Lady. Just call me Sophia, or even Sophie if you prefer.”

A tentative smile pulled at the scarred corner of his mouth. “Very well. I will, if you call me Cullen.”

Initially I was a little shocked at the informality of it. I knew that I did it first, but he was the commander and I was just some strange healer… but I needed to make friends and allies if I was to survive this and get back home. I finally smiled back and lifted one of my hands and reached out across the table. “Alright then. It’s nice to meet you, Cullen.”

His smile moved to the other corner of his mouth as he raised his hand to shake mine. “A pleasure, Sophie.” It was then I realized that he had also shed his gloves with the rest of his armor. His hand felt rough and callused, but it also felt warm and his grip, while strong and firm, communicated reassurance and gentleness.


	4. Sight of the Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An opportunity presents itself and Sophia can't help herself but take drastic action that lands her in isolation which begins to take its toll on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins to look at Sophia's nightmares which can be violent, graphic and psychologically difficult. It also contains a detailed description of an anxiety attack.

The next day, I took breakfast with Beatris. When she saw me approaching, she nodded discreetly to the other two sisters with her; they nodded back, took their goblets, and left her alone at the small table with bread and dried fruit. She greeted me with a pleasant smile and a "Good morning, my dear."

I didn't say anything at first. The memory of how I'd left the training grounds yesterday still left me a little embarrassed. I gave her a half-hearted smile as I sat down and chewed on a chunk of bread before swallowing and clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

Beatris put down her goblet and gave what I could best describe as a maternal smile - one full of understanding and sympathy. “It’s quite alright dear. You’ve been so good with all those we’ve cared for, so kind and helpful, that I sometimes forget all that you’ve been through yourself.” She smiled at me reassuringly and pat my hand then continued, “You are a rare soul, Sophia. I don’t think you even realize it. Your empathy and kindness comes to you so naturally. You are patient and reassuring to everyone you’ve helped and you always care for them with a wisdom and dedication that even many Chantry sisters do not possess. Its as if you were meant for this - to help us.”

I looked away from her and stuffed my face with more bread to avoid her scrutiny while I fought with myself again. Part of me wanted to push her away and not let her get close, but another part of me knew that I needed her if I was to find a place here. But I needed to be more than just a healer. Even good healers can be easily forgotten by those in charge. I needed to figure out a way to get the advisers and the Herald to trust me, to _rely_ on me. My skills as a healer were not enough. I could be so much more to them. I was already at a huge advantage knowing what their future held, but I had to find a way to offer advice that they would be willing to take and to do it in a subtle way that wouldn’t change the major events of the story. If they ever found out that I knew _everything_ , they would force me to tell them and then they’d change their own futures and I’d cease to be useful. I needed them to trust me and without any connections in this world, that could take too long to build on my own. I needed something that they couldn’t ignore. Like the Herald’s mark. I needed something drastic.

As I thought about all the ways I could guide them without them knowing _how much_ I actually knew, my attention was drawn away by the quick pace of armored footsteps approaching. I turned to see Cullen quickly making his way to the back of the chantry, parchment in hand. Josephine exited her office and quickly joined him behind the door that was constantly guarded.

I tried to think of what it could be. It had been about a week since I woke up and the Herald has been away this whole time. It could be many things, especially since the reality of Thedas was much bigger than depicted in the games. I turned back to Beatris. “What do you think that's about?” I asked.

She leaned forward and by the look on her face, I knew it would be in a whisper before she even spoke. I learned forward to match; the older woman loved gossip. “Apparently the Herald arrived at the Crossroads outside of Redcliff and after three days of fending off attacks by both apostates and templars, he finally secured the area.”

I sat back in surprise, letting my back thud against the chair. Time really was portrayed much differently here than in the games. I knew travel must have taken longer realistically, and really I shouldn’t have been surprised that it took so many days, but it only reminded me how _real_ this world actually was. But what struck me more was that a battle that only took minutes in-game, lasted for three days. I couldn’t imagine how tiring that must have been for the fledgling Herald. He was only starting his journey which would only get harder as it went. I felt a powerful urge to help him, to make sure I could guide him and reassure him, not just for myself and my desire to get back home, but also with the realization that his story, which was already depicted as being incredibly painful and difficult, in the reality of _this_ Thedas was going to get much worse than I could have possibly understood through a game.

Suddenly all the pieces of my plan converged in my mind, and I knew what I needed to do; however, I didn’t have much time to enact it. I had to catch their attention. I would give them no other choice _but_ to trust me. Hopefully it wouldn't backfire and get me locked up or killed instead. But I needed to be noticed, to be impossible to ignore...

And so I did something drastic.

I threw my head back and cried out, quickly knotting my fingers into my hair as I fell sideways out of my chair. Beatris called out for me and I heard several others rush forward. She put her hands on my side, but pulled them back quickly when I moaned and drew myself into a fetal position. Beatris called out orders to the others and many people began running around. I wasn’t sure how long I should keep this up, but I had a lot to say, and this was to be the first time, so I figured a minute or two would suffice.

I finally relaxed and dropped my hands from my head, rolled onto my back and opened my eyes. Beatris looked to be on the verge of tears and I felt so terrible for putting her through that, but I needed a spectacle. The advisers wouldn't be able to ignore it.

“Sophia! Sophia, are you alright?” I groaned and tried to sit up but she pushed me back down. “No! Don’t get up! What happened?”

I brushed her hands away and sat up. “I need to see the leaders of the Inquisition right away.”

“You can see them once we make sure you’re alright. Do you know what happened? You were eating with me and then suddenly you clutched your head in pain and fell. Do you remember any of it?”

I nodded and pulled myself to my feet. Beatris quickly stood to hesitantly help me. “Yes. I remember all of it, and it can’t wait.” I pushed through the crowd and made my way to the guarded door. Behind it, I knew what would be waiting. Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana would be gathered around a table with maps of Thedas spread across it discussing, or most likely debating, how to handle their current situation.

When I approached the door, the guards stepped in the way. One held his hand out to me. “This area is off-limits. You may not enter.”

“I need to speak with them,” I replied with hopefully what came across as a commanding and confident tone, but that could have been debatable since my heart was pounding in my ears and my chest felt like is was burning from the nerves I was struggling to get under control.

“You can wait for them to finish their meeting.”

I shook my head. “It can’t wait. Can you please just ask them if they will see me? Its urgent.” The two guards looked at each other and they seemed to communicate wordlessly their resolve to bar my path. “It’s about the Herald,” I added, hoping that would work.

One of them looked to the other again, asking a wordless question. The other jerked his head towards the door and stepped aside. He quietly entered. After a few moments, he came back out and nodded to the other. He stepped fully aside to let me pass and shut the door behind me when I entered.

“Lady Sophia? They said you needed to speak to us about the Herald. Have you remembered something about the Fade?” asked Josephine. I swept my gaze across the room, taking them in one at a time. When I looked at Josephine, I was surprised at how much I missed about her appearance from that first day. I expected the pouty, full lips and olive skin, but her hair was much thicker and honestly quite frizzy. Currently she had it down where is fell across her chest and shoulders in unruly waves. Leliana was watching silently, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She held her head in a position so that her cowl obscured most of her face, but I knew her piercing gaze was on me from the prickling feeling across my skin. Her thin, red hair was also much longer than depicted in the games; it currently snuck out from the sides of her cowl to hang just below her collarbones. Cullen stood on the opposite side of the table from me with his arm propped over the hilt of his sword. 

“This is going to sound strange, but before I tell you, I ask that you listen to me fully before you say anything,” I said, knowing that what I was about to tell them would most likely launch into a debate or an interrogation.

“Of course,” replied Josephine quickly, but when I glance at the other two, they seemed much more cautious.

It was too late to turn back now, so I took a deep breath and explained myself. “Just moments ago, something happened to me; I don’t know what it was, but I had a vision… about the Herald.”

Josephine seemed to be at a loss for words, but Cullen tensed. “What do you mean ‘a vision’?” he asked with a dire tone.

“Please listen," I replied quickly. Hoping I wouldn't lose control of the conversation before I could convince them. "I saw the Herald in the Hinterlands. I know it was the Hinterlands because I've lived there for many years.”

“You are sure it was a vision?” asked Josephine, gently.

“Its probably a trick of the Fade. Spirits or demons like to show us illusions and with the Breach this close, there is no telling what they will do when we sleep,” added Cullen, trying to sound reassuring.

“I was awake, Cul- Commander,” I corrected, realizing that this was not the time nor place for such informality. “I was sitting across from Sister Beatris just now, eating my breakfast, when the worst pain I’ve ever experienced filled my head and my vision went blank, and then I could _see_ the Herald in the Hinterlands speaking with Mother Giselle, and she told him to appeal to the Chantry in Val Royeaux.”

Leliana stood up straight and let her arms fall to her sides while Cullen quickly picked up the parchment from the table and scanned it again. “How could you know that? The raven only arrived this morning,” asked Leliana in a low voice confirming that my assumption about the messages that Cullen and Josephine were carrying was correct.

“And I’m guessing he told you he was staying in the Hinterlands to stabilize the area and gain more influence? I’m telling you I _saw_ it and I _wasn’t_ dreaming.”

Leliana lifted her head, allowing me to see her face fully. Her stare was piercing and intense. “As interesting as this is, you do realize you've just introduced yourself as a threat to the Herald?” Leliana stepped towards the table. “We don’t even know what these visions are, what's caused them, _if_ it is even true, but you’ve openly admitted to being able to spy on him. Is it just limited to him or can you see the experiences of others too?” I stood frozen under her imposing gaze. Inside I was terrified by her assertion, but I was also taken by surprise by her question. It also had that low, dangerous tone. I wasn't sure if she was asking it out of concern for my ability to 'spy' on others of the Inquisition, or if she was considering using it to her advantage. I would be surprised if she'd try to find a way to use this against others.

Josephine interrupted with her own train of thought. “What if the magic that gave the Herald the mark also linked her to him, and that is why she can see his actions?” I silently thanked Josephine for her timely interruption. I actually liked her idea. If I linked myself to the Herald, I could avoid being used as a 'spy' by Leliana but also hopefully tie my fate to his - which would hopefully lead back into the Fade.

But Leliana shook her head and turned to her friend. “That still makes her dangerous - in the wrong hands she-”

“In the wrong hands? In _our_ hands, the magic of the mark is still dangerous!” interrupted Cullen, sounding much less reassuring than he had moments ago.

“ _Please_ , you’re _not listening_!” I shouted to interrupt their squabbling. “I don’t think I just saw the past or the present. Tell me, has he dealt with the templar or apostate camps? Has he met with the Horsemaster yet?”

“How could you _possibly_ know-” sputtered Cullen.

“The Herald just sent word that he planned to search them out,” answered Josephine honestly. I was quickly realizing that Josephine would be my quickest ally, while Leliana would be the most dangerous obstacle. I was also beginning to realize that the camaraderie that I was beginning to build with Cullen had probably been completely diminished by my choice.

“Well, I already saw him do all of it. It was in flashes, but it was enough to know that he will successfully rout the rogue templars and apostates as well as stabilize the farmlands and secure the horses.”

“That’s impossible. No one can see visions of the future,” said Cullen shaking his head. 

I turned my gaze to Leliana and as much as I hoped to see it, it still surprised me to see the uncertainty on her face. “That’s not true Cullen,” she said softly. Inside my stomach did flips. I had hoped that Leliana wouldn’t be as dismissive given her own small foray into prophecy before joining the Hero of Ferelden, but so much had happened to her since then that it was a gamble. She sighed and shifted into a more relaxed stance, crossing her arms across her chest again. “We still do not know the extent of the Fade’s ability to affect our world, and us in it. Perhaps Josie is right, and her time spent physically in the Fade has allowed her some sensitivity to it. Solas said that he could sense traces of the Fade in her that was different than a mage's magic.” She turned back to me. “We will let you prove yourself to us. Explain what you saw, show us where the templars and apostates can be found. _If_ it is true we will _consider_ how to move forward.”

“You can’t seriously be entertaining this! The Fade _is_ magic and if its affecting her, we need to _help_ her, not _use_ her,” shouted Cullen in surprise. He appeared to be surprised at Leliana's sudden change and was most likely beginning to feel outnumbered.

They began to argue amongst themselves about the possible validity of my claims and whether or not it was appropriate to use my ability for their gain. I would have interrupted their bickering and provided the proof they needed, but something Leliana said unsettled me that gave me pause. Solas sensed magic in me? How could he sense magic when I came from a world without it? I felt even more frustration over my missing memories of the Fade as I had no plausible understanding for why Solas would have sensed the Fade in me. Could it really cling to someone after being physically in it? Was it like radiation? Could I _actually_ be in danger from it?

I had to shake my head and bring myself back to the present. The advisers were still arguing and thankfully didn't notice my moment of panic. Cullen was firmly on the side of discovering how the Fade was affecting me and to remove its influence while Leliana was staunchly supporting the idea that _if_ I could indeed see the present and the future that they could use that information to help them. Josephine vacillated between the two - between the promising aspect of certainty while also seeming a little bit squeamish over the possible consequences, namely my health. 

“I'll show you,” I said, trying to cut into the argument. They didn't stop. “I said, I’ll do it!” I shouted, getting them to finally stop. Leliana looked pleased, but Cullen was uncomfortable. “If I can help, then I want to. Times are dangerous enough and if I can offer you any advantage, I’ll gladly do it.” I hoped to placate Cullen with my words, but it didn’t seem to work. Instead he just looked resigned and disquieted.

“You don’t know what you’re offering. You don’t understand the dangers of the Fade,” he said softly. I certainly _did_ understand it’s dangers, but my heart tightened when I thought about his first-hand experience with it himself. He sighed and finally said, “Fine. But I want her to check in with a mage and a templar regularly to ensure this magic isn't dangerous to her or the rest of us.”

“We’ll have the spirit healer and your templar assess her again,” replied Leliana. She turned her attention back to me. “Alright. Show us.”

I gazed down at the map of the Hinterlands than Leliana had slid across the table towards me. It took me a few moments to place the farm and the crossroads, but once I did, I pointed at the river that ran north between the farmlands and the King’s Road. “They’re both camped near this river. The templars,” I said, dragging my finger south, “are camped up the slope here, just before the waterfall that feeds into the river. It’s a pretty defensible position and they’re dug-in. They have palisades set up to create choke points here, here, and here. Their leader’s tent is here. That is where I saw them confront him.”

I looked up to see Leliana still watching me closely. Cullen was looking at the map, and Josephine was furiously scribbling.

“The apostates are holed up in a cave in Witchwood,” I said, dragging my finger north to Forannan Ravine. “If the Herald follows the passage through the Gully of the Burnt Men and then keeps the mountains to his left when he enters the wood going north, he will find the cave. They will have magically sealed the entrance, but Solas should be able to break through it. After that, they will have a fight ahead of them, but inside they will find their leader. _Also_ ,” I added, before they interrupted again, “I saw how we will convince Horsemaster Dennet to lend us his horses and if you act now, it will save us considerable time on the back and forth. He has two requests before he is willing to help. First is that the Herald finds out what has gotten into the wolves in the area and the second is to protect the area by building watchtowers. If you send resources and men here, here, and here,” I said pointing at the map and as I moved my finger, Cullen placed a marker, “it could shave off a lot of time in securing your horses.”

“And the wolves?” asked Leliana. “Did you see what was wrong with them?”

I had to be careful. If I said too much they would try to pull more out of me. I needed to make sure I set this up so that I could reveal only what I wanted to. I chewed my lip in thought. “I only saw everything in flashes. Bits of conversation or travel or battle, but I saw a pack up the river with… I don’t know how to describe it. It was this terrible-looking creature. It was tall and gangly and… “ I shuddered.

“A demon,” concluded Cullen.

“I think so,” I replied nodding.

“I will send a letter to Trevelyan right away,” said Josephine, continuing to scribble.

“As for you,” said Leliana, still keeping her focus and her gaze on me. “You will be placed under guard until we can verify your claims.”

“And determine the threat you pose to yourself and others if these… ‘visions’ are indeed a manifestation of the Fade,” added Cullen.

I winced, but nodded. The road to earning their trust would be a difficult one, but I couldn’t wait for it to just happen over time. If I could get them to include me in their meetings or even on their missions, I would be one step closer to finding a way back home; however, trying to speed up the process as I did could prove very dangerous, and it seems that I had just lost whatever trust I had gained with Cullen.

* * *

It had been four days since my ‘revelation’ to the advisers and I’ve only seen them once since the War Room. That same night I was escorted to my room by Leliana and Cullen. We entered my small room and waited in silence for a few minutes while one of the guards came back with a mage and a templar. The templar was a woman with tan skin and hair the color of milk chocolate. She kept it tied up in a neat bun and her face was guarded but expressed kindness. The mage wore traditional Circle robes and his overgrown blonde hair kept falling into his eyes.

“Lysette. Aiden. Thank you for coming,” said Cullen to the two of them.

“We’d like you to reassess her to determine the effects the Fade has on her,” ordered Leliana.

Aiden and Lysette looked confused. “I only sensed slight traces of the Fade in her last time. It should have dissipated by now,” explained Lysette.

“Has her condition changed?” asked the mage, following up quickly.

Cullen nodded. “She has been experiencing… visions.”

Everyone turned to look at me which was a little unnerving, so I just sat on my bed looking at my hands. “What kind of visions?” asked Aiden, intruigued.

“We will determine that in a few days, but it seems as though she is seeing the Herald.”

“I don’t understand. Couldn’t those just be dreams?” asked Lysette.

“She was awake when it happened,” explained Leliana. Then there was a beat of silence and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me again. When I came up with this idea, I didn’t expect everything to become so awkward.

That was a lie. Yes, I did. I just hated what it actually felt like now that it was happening.

“Really?” asked Aiden sounding more interested. He walked over and I looked up at him. “Good evening, my Lady. We haven’t really met yet, but I was there when you were asleep.”

I looked at him strangely, but I couldn't help the uncomfortable half-grin that slipped onto my face. He was making an attempt at being reassuring but he just came off as slightly creepy. “Sorry, what I mean is I was working with the sisters to heal you. I am a spirit healer.”

Then my memory flashed back to my first night and Beatris dismissing someone from the room. “I think I remember. The night I woke up. Thank you for helping me.”

He gently grabbed my hands and then he just… stared at me. He must have been doing something because I felt a tingling in my hands that slowly spread up my arms and into my chest. It felt similar to when I touched the mineral vein in the caverns before I came here. Finally, he gave my hands a squeeze and released them. “I do not recognize the magic, but I do feel it. It reminds me of the Fade, but it still feels… different. Foreign.”

“It’s stronger,” added Lysette. “I can feel it even from here.” 

“I’m sorry… It’s _stronger_ ? What does that mean?” I wasn’t expecting this any of this. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that I had physical, believable evidence to support my story, or terrified that there was some new and foreign magic growing stronger inside me. I didn’t feel any different and _I_ knew that the visions were made up in order to give me a way to explain my knowledge of future events, but what _could_ happen to me because of this magic?

“It could be nothing,” reassured Aiden, squeezing my hand again most likely sensing my distress. “It could have been weaker because you were near death when you arrived. Now that you’ve recovered, we can probably sense it more clearly. It could still go away in time.”

“Or it could get worse,” countered Lysette.

“If her abilities really are prophetic, could she lose them if the magic fades?” asked Leliana.

Aiden dropped my hands and turned back to the others. “It is possible.”

“But if the magic grows…?” she continued.

“One may also conclude her visions will too,” he replied.

Leliana nodded, silently reflecting to herself before finally speaking up. “Thank you, you two. You can go. Tell no one what was said in here.”

The two left while Leliana and Cullen remained. I waited for the door to close before I quietly asked, “What else could happen to me if it doesn’t go away? Could this magic be hurting me?”

“Didn’t you say that the visions were accompanied by pain?” asked Cullen.

“Like the worst headache I’ve ever experienced,” I explained. He gave me a sympathetic look. I suddenly began to hate my story. I wanted answers to what this magic was and how it could actually affect me, but now it seemed my lie was going to make that difficult to do.

“Hopefully this will just be the extent of the magic and the pain you experience. And hopefully it will disappear in time.” Cullen tried to reassure me, but it definitely wasn’t working. I was suddenly very scared.

“Well aren’t you the optimist,” countered Leliana sarcastically. I knew she probably hoped that she could find a use for my visions if she ever learned to trust me. I had to remember though that this Leliana that I was currently facing was the one who struggled between seeing people as tools and seeing them as living, feeling beings. “We need you to stay here until we’ve cleared both you and your story. There will be a guard posted at all hours. Until we deem you trustworthy and safe, you will remain here,” she finished before turning and leaving.

Cullen waited by the door looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be in the same room as me. “If you need anything, you can ask the guard.” He turned to go before he hesitated and turned halfway back. “For what it’s worth. I’m sorry this has happened to you.”

And then I was completely and utterly alone for days. Beatris tried to check up on me that night, but the guard wouldn’t let her in. I knew because I heard her chiding him in her maternal way that got most people to listen to her. It didn’t work this time.

It was a difficult couple of days, being stuck alone. I started to have intense nightmares about people dying on battlefields, the terrifying staccato of bullets ringing out around me, and being unable to save them because when I opened my medical kit, I had nothing except torn and dirty bandages and a handful of wilted herbs that looked like elfroot. I’d ask for clean bandages and antibiotics from another medic and then suddenly they transformed into Chantry sisters and they’d look at me strangely. The staccato of bullets was then replaced by the clashing of metal on metal and the roar of demons and abominations walking physically among us.

The dreams that hurt the most, however, were the ones about Jack. I’d see him wandering through fog, or smoke, or a blizzard, and I’d chase after him, calling him, but he’d never seem to hear me. But the worst one. The one that nearly broke me, was a complete lie.

_My lie_.

The lie of Jack and I sitting in some tavern out by the western banks of Lake Calenhad. The one where templars came looking for an apostate or apostate sympathizers. The one where Jack couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The one where they took him outside to beat him to death.

But it was more than that. The lie took on a life of its own and in that nightmare, templars held me down and made me watch as they beat him mercilessly with armored gloves and armored boots. Cutting his face and spraying his blood across the dirt with each blow. His blood mingled into his hair, soaking it red. In this version of my lie, I did not run. I was powerless to run. I was forced to stay and watch every blow, listen to the hard punches become wet and cracking sounds.

After that nightmare the constant loneliness gripped me like a vice, tightening slowly until I couldn’t take it anymore. I began pacing in my room, tears streaking across my cheeks as true memories of Jack began to intermingle with the lie I’d constructed for Thedas. If they didn’t get word back from the Hinterlands soon, I felt like I was going to die in here, slowly suffocated, drowned in my own anxiety. That was the first time I experienced a panic attack.

As my anxiety reached it's height after another nightmare of Jack, I crawled out of bed and paced my room. Suddenly the world felt like it was floating away from me. My head and body felt light and my vision looked out on a world that stretched farther and farther away as if I was moving backwards through a tunnel. I tried calling for help, but my voice sounded weak and distant, like I was under a pool of water and voices were speaking just above the surface, garbled and impossible to discern. But it was my own voice that I couldn’t hear. The pressure tightened around me and I fell to my knee, grabbing the chair to stop my fall. The chair buckled under my weight, so it and I tumbled to the stone floor. My heart was racing and my breath kept coming out in pants, but I couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Somewhere, far off, I could hear a door slamming open, shouts in surprise, but I couldn’t make it out or even care to. I thought that I was dying. I threw myself onto my back and gripped at my chest and my throat. I was angry with myself, with my body. It wasn’t _working_ ! I couldn’t _breathe!_ Above me blurry shapes gathered around me. I felt pressure on my sides, on my back, but I couldn’t feel anything else. The world blurred by in front of my eyes. The pressure returned against my back and then to the front of my shoulders. I felt a tingling then finally the pounding in my chest slowed and the burning in my lungs abated as finally I drew in a blissful gasp of air that filled my lungs fully. 

My vision and hearing still hadn’t returned fully, but I could make out the tones of two men speaking. One sounded soft and delicate, the other huskier and fuller. The delicate voice was closer to me. The pressure on my shoulder moved to my forehead - a hand I realized. The soft voice whispered to me, the sound right next to me with shocking clarity, telling me to sleep. The tingling beneath my skin came with with intensity and that feeling was the last thing I remember.

When I woke up again I wondered if what happened had been a dream. I could barely remember it. But I couldn’t focus on it for long because I realized I was not alone in my room when a movement caught my eye and before I could discern who it was, they had quietly left the room. I figured it had to be a guard or a servant - probably a servant since they were able to leave almost soundlessly - and that soon I’d be joined by someone else, someone more important and have to somehow explain what happened. Truth was, I wasn’t completely sure.

True enough, the door opened again and Josephine stuck her head in. I actually felt relief that it was Josephine and not someone else. She saw that I was awake and walked into the room fully, shutting the door behind her. She grabbed the chair and brought it to the bedside and sat next to me. “You gave us quiet the scare last night. How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Better, I think.”

“Do you know what happened?”

I looked at her for a few moments, searching, wondering what she could be thinking. “I… I’m not exactly sure. I just felt… so unbearably lonely - and afraid. Then I felt like the world was falling away from me and I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t hear.” Her face looked sad and empathic as I spoke. “I think it was a panic attack. I’ve never had one before, so… I don’t know.”

She nodded thoughtfully before finally saying, “The commander called it an attack of the nerves. He said he’s seen it often enough before.”

It took me a few moments to completely unpack her statement. Attack of the nerves was probably what they called anxiety attacks. But then how could Cullen know that? Was he one of the people in the room? How did he know what it looked like?

“Cullen?” I asked timidly.

She nodded and explained. “Your guard heard a crash in the room. He said he saw you on the floor, gasping. The commander was in the war room going over the maps at the time, so the guard ran to get him. When he saw you, he recognized the signs. He sent for a spirit healer to help calm you.”

“How did he know?”

Josephine shrugged. “Most likely from his time as a templar.”

“Oh…” I thought about it and it made a lot of sense. How many young children had they stolen away from their homes? How many young apprentices had they watched carefully, hawkishly as their Harrowing loomed closer and closer? For some, the Circle became a death sentence, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine the panic and terror that many of those mages harbored daily.

When Josephine spoke again, her voice was timid and morose. “I’m afraid we’ve done this to you, Lady Sophia…”

I shook my head. She didn’t even know half of the story. _I_ left Jack alone in the caves. _I_ kept pushing forward even when I knew I should have turned back. _I_ lied to them about who I really was. _I_ faked the visions so I could manipulate them. “I did this to myself…” I concluded sadly.

“Hopefully, this will all be over soon?” It wasn’t a statement. Her voice rose at the end as if she wasn’t even sure of it herself.

I couldn’t decide if I found comfort in her words or resignation. “Have you heard back yet?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, but that may be a good thing.”

“Maybe…” 

She sat with me in silence for a few more minutes, checked one final time if I was alright, and at my lazy, doleful reply, she hesitated, but eventually left.

During the next day or so, I tried to keep careful watch of my own thoughts and emotions. When it felt like it was getting to be too much, I’d try to imagine being somewhere else and focused on the sound and feel of my breath moving through my body. I couldn’t let panic and anxiety grip me like that again.

Finally, Josephine came back to see me on the evening of the fourth day with parchment in hand. “Lady Sophia, we finally got word back from- Oh! My apologies!” she cried turning back to face the door.

I was standing by my desk in a thin shift. Out of boredom I tried to figure out how to dress myself in the manner Beatris had taught me, but it was so uncomfortable and so complicated. That couldn’t have been the only way I was allowed to dress, right? Look at the Herald’s present and future companions. How hard was it to get a pair of damned pants? I gave up and just wore the shift. No one would care anyway since I was stuck in here. I looked down at myself. I didn’t think it was that inappropriate. It wasn’t exactly see-through though I doubt it would have passed for a shift-type dress back home. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, Ambassador. I haven’t really had any visitors and really, it’s so much more comfortable than those horrible outfits I've been given.”

Josephine chuckled and turned slightly. “Ferelden fashion can leave much to be desired. I do not mind, if you don’t,” she added. I shook my head and she turned to face me fully.

“To be honest, if I never wore a skirt for the rest of my life, it would be too soon.”

“Perhaps we can do something about that. After all you should be comfortable if you are to stay with us.”

“Then…” I started, hopeful.

Josephine nodded and handed me the parchment. “The Herald wrote back. Here. I thought you’d like to read it.”

I took two long strides towards the door and grabbed the letter eagerly and unfolded it. Then my heart sank. In my hands, I had a parchment painted with unfamiliar runes. Clearly we all spoke in the common tongue, but again the reality of Thedas versus the games threw another curveball. For all I knew, I could be looking at Cuneiform or Norse runes. This was yet another reminder that I truly didn’t belong here.

“That… was not the reaction I was expecting…” commented Josephine carefully examining my face. “Lady Sophia, are you alright?”

I was trying not to cry. I looked back up at her and handed her back the letter miserably. “I… I can’t read it.”

Her expression changed to one of surprise. “Oh… Oh! My apologies! I had assumed that because of your family…”

Right. The Darrows were a noble family in Starkhaven. I’d have to deal with that at some point too. I sighed. “I never knew them. I never lived with them. I'm not even sure if we're really related. I was never raised as a noble, and for that matter, I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop addressing me as ‘Lady.’ I was born a commoner, and a poor one at that, and then I became an orphan, then I was to become a wife. Jack knew how to read and write and my life didn’t require it of me.”

“But your training as a healer…”

“Was gained under the experience of a mentor. I was never formally trained,” I lied.

“I see…” She looked thoughtful, and honestly I had no idea what she could have possibly been thinking. I was afraid she was starting to think I was a fraud too. When she finally spoke, I felt reassured. “Sophia, I am so sorry for assuming. It was wrong of me and I will address you however you wish. Do not worry about not being able to read. I will help you remedy that if you are willing though; you may need it in the days ahead.”

I smiled warmly at her. I didn’t know how good I would be at learning the new language, but I was hopeful that it wouldn’t be too difficult since apparently I already spoke it. However, it would become necessary to learn if I wanted to be involved in more matters - and hopefully take a place in the war room. “I would love to learn.”

“Perfect. We can start on that tomorrow, but for now, how about I just read his letter?” I nodded and she held it up to read:

> **Ambassador,**
> 
> **I hope this letter reaches you in haste as we will be making our way back to Haven soon after I write this. The intelligence you provided was quite useful. The battles against the rogue templars and mages went well and we saved possibly several days of searching thanks to your direction.**
> 
> **I also bring good news. We thought it would be a good idea to approach Master Dennet after having already addressed his concerns, so I got Corporal Vale to begin work on the watchtowers, and I agree, the locations suggested were ideal for rebuilding the villages.**
> 
> **Then we took care of the demon controlling the local wolves. It was strange. I think even the wolves were grateful when we killed the demon; I keep thinking I can see them on the edges of the camp, but they do not come any closer.**
> 
> **Anyway, when we finally approached Master Dennet, he was so surprised at us having already dealt with the wolves and beginning work on the towers that he agreed to bring us the horses right away as long as we could provide a decent escort.**
> 
> **Yes, you read that right. He is coming with his horses. He also gave me and my companions horses for our own use. These are well-trained, used to work and travel and I hope to arrive back in Haven within the next few days. We will continue on to Val Royeaux after that, but first, I am very interested in meeting this new friend of ours. However, it seems that Solas is even more eager to make it back and meet her if you can believe it.**
> 
> **\- Trevelyan**

I smiled as Josephine read the letter. “So you believe me?”

Josephine folded the letter then clasped her hands together in front of her. “We do. And we'd like to discuss these visions more in the future.”

“So I’m no longer a prisoner?”

Josephine looked slightly uncomfortable and it sent a tightening feeling across my spine. “You will be allowed to leave your room and take visitors again, but I am afraid that you will not be able to move about without an escort.”

“A guard, you mean,” I clarified, pouting.

“It is just as much for your own safety.” _As it is for the safety of those in Haven_ is what she didn’t say. She didn’t need to.

“They’re afraid of me.”

“We’re afraid _for_ you. Magic is dangerous as is, but now this new magic has created a hole in the sky and left its mark on both you and the Herald. And your visions could be of great value to us. It was Leliana’s suggestion to keep a guard on you in order to protect _you_ from others.”

“It was?”

“You may be very valuable to us, Lady-- My apologies… Sophia. I know you want to help, but you’re also putting yourself in the middle of a war and we are still not certain who we are even fighting.” 

I did, and perhaps some extra protection wouldn’t be so bad. If word got out that I knew about future events, I could become a target. I chided myself once again for lacking the forethought to consider all these possibilities before I acted rashly.

“I see. Well, thank you, Josephine, for coming to see me.”

“You are very welcome. You can stop by my office any time you wish to visit, and tomorrow we can see about helping you with your reading.”

“I’d like that.” She turned to leave. “Hey, Josephine?” She turned back to face me again. “Do you really think the Herald and I are connected?”

“It seems to be the most logical answer we have right now. Why?” 

Why? Because the Herald’s mark will nearly kill him. Because everyone thinks that this magic inside me is causing my visions, so now I can’t get help in figuring out what _really_ is wrong with me without admitting I lied and _then_ having to explain just how I know so much.

“No reason. Just thinking.”

“Well if you ever want to think out loud, you know where I’ll be.”

“Thank you, Josephine. Good night.”


	5. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia spends a few days adjusting to a new routine while also managing to get a templar to commit to training her on basic safety. She has a heart-to-heart with Cullen.

The next few days consisted of a new routine in which I would take breakfast with Beatris, followed by mid-morning rounds in the infirmary and the military camp. Then I would take lunch with Josephine before beginning my lessons in the runes of the Common Tongue. It was confusing at first, but once I figured out that the runes represented sounds, it became easier. It wasn’t exactly like the alphabet, but it’s construction still centered around phonemes. We started with a very rudimentary ‘alphabet’ that listed all of the symbols and poorly drawn pictures of objects to help represent the sound. I tried to create a ‘cheat sheet’ that made comparisons to the alphabet but Josephine asked what I was doing and that would have been too difficult to explain so I brushed it off as scribbles and stopped writing using my alphabet. It would make learning the Common Tongue a bit more difficult when I couldn’t compare it, but it wouldn’t raise as many questions. 

Josephine had also come through and procured me some more comfortable outfits that consisted of varying styles of leather, cotton, and linen pants and an assortment of tunics, blouses, and overcoats. Today I settled on some cotton trousers and a dark blue tunic. I wore a belt over the tunic to create a more flattering waistline, but it also allowed me to strap on different pouches that would be more convenient to carry around when I was seeing to the sick.

In the morning I helped either Adan or the sisters with their work and one particular morning I was able to put my courses in homeopathic medicine to the test. A soldier had come in cradling his face and seeking a remedy for severe tooth pain. After examining the man, the sisters seemed to be arguing about something vaguely. One claimed that Adan had instructed them to be sparing with the poultice and save it for severe injuries and the other felt that his tooth didn’t warrant the  _ other _ remedy. When the first sister approached with a rather frightening, and frankly unsanitary, looking pair of forceps, I began to get an idea of what they were talking about. I stopped them and asked to examine him. The man’s mouth looked fine. His gums were the appropriate color with no abscesses or lesions directly visible in his mouth. Sure he had a cavity, but it didn’t appear to need extraction, not yet at least. I turned back to the sisters. “Do you happen to have clove, thyme, or oregano? Honestly all three would be ideal.”

They both looked at me like I had grown another head. “I’m sure if Adan doesn’t have those, Flissa will…  _ Why _ ?”

I ignored her question for now. “Good. Do me a favor and get those ingredients and a mortar and pestle.” The sister opposed to extraction nodded and left to retrieve the items. The other one - Lavinia - just stared at me glumly. I had been contradicting her a lot lately, so I decided to at least try to explain myself. “Clove oil can relieve tooth pain and prevent gum disease. Thyme and oregano can help fight infection. I plan to rub it on his tooth and gums and if that improves his condition, then great. If not, we can consider extraction.” Her gaze softened and she nodded slowly, seeming pacified by the explanation. 

After that I seemed to have become Haven’s dentist as well as healer and secret prophet… I had a lot of visitors show up looking for me in the morning for remedies for their mouths. I ended up creating a toothpaste out of tea tree, peppermint and clove oil, ground up with thyme leaves which were all not that difficult to get ahold of so I ended up asking Adan to make large quantities for the village. At one point Seggrit tried to reverse-engineer his own, managed to get ahold of Adan’s stock of ingredients and tried to sell his own version for a marked up price. Fortunately, Leliana had grown attached to using the toothpaste regularly and terrorized Seggrit with a sweet voice but deadly gaze.

Lysette was the templar assigned to be my guard during this time. I could tell she chafed at it, but she would do what was asked. There really weren’t that many options at the moment either since Cullen felt I required constant supervision from a templar. What she really wanted to do was help train the recruits or go out and help stabilize the area. I felt bad for her, so I worked out a compromise. She could go help with the training in the afternoon and I’d just sit nearby and study, if after training she would help teach me some basic defense. After all, if she was supposed to protect  me , wouldn’t it be easier if I could also protect myself? Really, I was still banking on the chance to reenter the Fade in order to get back home. I knew it would be dangerous, but it was probably my only chance, so picking up some training wouldn't be a bad idea.

One afternoon, while Lysette was training some recruits, I was sitting on some crates by the officers’ tents using Josephine’s version of a visual alphabet as a reference to decode a section of the Chant of Light. Cullen had walked away with one of his messengers, so Lysette and who I had assumed was Rylen based on his accent had taken over a drill concerning how to block with a shield without getting knocked down or breaking their arm. It was hard to focus because many of the recruits ended up on their asses quite often. 

Another shout and I again looked up. A recruit had been knocked down again. I shook my head and resumed my work, slouching slightly. “Impressive isn’t it?” said a voice sarcastically. I looked up from the chant to realize Cullen was standing in front of me with his arm resting across the pommel of his sword. He grunted softly as he sat down on the crate next to me. “The mighty army of the Inquisition, ladies and gentlemen.”

“They’ll improve,” I offered and then winced as Lysette knocked another recruit on his ass and Rylen berated him for not bending his knees into the blow.

“How are you fairing?” 

I knew it was just him trying to be kind or trying to reach out knowing we’d have to work together in the future, but I couldn’t help the twinge of frustration over my situation. “Well let’s see. I spent last week as a prisoner  _ completely _ alone. I have a magic in me that I don’t understand from a trip to the Fade that I didn’t ask for, and speaking of didn’t ask for, I also seem to get visions about your Inquisition. But hey, you all trust me now, so there’s that.”

Cullen looked away and I could have sworn I saw red creep up his neck in a blush. “I am truly very sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

I watched him very closely. “Are you though?” I knew about his struggles. I knew he was trying to be a better man, but with his dreams, his withdrawals, and his self-doubt did he really have any additional time to spare a second thought for the lost girl plagued by a magic that terrified him?

He winced. I felt like it was confirmation and my heart sank. Of course he didn’t care about me. Why should he? He had an army to train and command and an enemy he couldn’t identify.

“That’s fair,” he said more to himself than me. Then he cleared his throat and turned to look at me. His gaze was determined and imposing. I couldn’t look away. “You didn’t ask for any of this; we treated you with mistrust and fear, and you’ve done nothing to deserve it. In fact you’ve been nothing but honest and helpful and at every turn we’ve only found more reason to betray that.” Now I winced at him calling me honest. I worried over how he would interpret it, but he continued talking as if he didn't notice. “I know I came off as mistrusting but, Sophie…” he paused and scanned my face before continuing. “I want you to know that I admire what you've done.”

My eyes widened in shock. _“_ _ Why _ _?”_ The question was coarse and harsh.

But in response, he chuckled. “Why not? You’ve been challenged by us at every step, but you haven’t given up on us. You keep helping us. You put yourself out there last week when you came to us about your visions and instead of trusting you we locked you away. I only hope we haven’t driven you off yet.”

“You couldn’t do that.” I swore I saw a flicker of hope flash his eyes, but I knew I was about to crushed it as I continued. “I’ve been placed under guard. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.” He winced again. “Could I?” I hated pushing him like this. The fan in me wanted to just comfort him and help him with his own demons, but I wasn’t just a visitor for a day. I had to look out for myself. I needed to survive too, and I needed to get home, so if I needed to be realistic and harsh, then I would.

“I suppose not,” he said looking away.

“Do you fear me, Cullen?”

He didn’t answer and kept his gaze down at the muddy snow.  “Cullen. Please look at me.” He slowly complied. His eyes conflicted with guilt. “Tell me.”

“I’d really like not to, I would, but to be honest, no one seems to understand the magic that you and the Herald seem to possess. I’ve seen what magic unfamiliar to those wielding it can do. I’m afraid for the people here under my charge, I’m afraid for the future of the Inquisition, and, Sophie, I am afraid for  _ you _ .” 

I kept his gaze as I listened to him. He was right. He saw what happened when naïve mages resorted to dangerous magic they couldn’t understand in Kinloch Hold. He suffered it first-hand. Then he went to Kirkwall where he was confronted with reminders of his trauma from restless mages, blood magic, and a new terrifying power in red lyrium that shook his faith in the Order. When finally there was a hope to end all this conflict, his Divine and many others he probably knew personally were murdered by yet another unknown power. I suddenly felt like complete and utter shit for pressing him on his prejudice. I wanted to comfort him, but then I worried about how weird it would come off when really I shouldn’t know any of this about him. I could use visions as an excuse, but that would be troublesome with the ‘link to the Herald’ theory and besides, this was something he’d need to tell on his own. I realized just how complicated getting everyone to trust me would be when I had to pretend that I didn’t know everything I actually did. The visions cover-story couldn’t stretch  _ that _ far.

I realized he was beginning to look uncomfortable under my scrutiny, so I sighed before echoing him with, “That’s fair.”

We both turned to watch the recruits train. Lysette was still hacking away at their shields while Rylen assessed their form. The one who had fallen earlier seemed to be getting the hang of it if Lysette’s approving smile was anything to go by. I rarely got to see that smile myself in our own ‘training.’

“I think you’re brave, you know.” He said it so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him.

I tried to stop it, but I let out a graceless snort. “Yeah, okay.”

It however seemed to pull a lopsided smirk from him as he turned his head again to look at me. “Really. I’ve seen you in the evening with Lysette, training and practicing to defend yourself when you shouldn’t have to. You’ve chosen a path that puts you in danger and you did it because you wanted to help.” 

I looked away hoping he couldn’t see the guilt wash through me. I really needed to get a handle on feeling this guilty about lying to them. “You don’t know me…”

“I’d like to think I do,” he said gently, leaning forward to catch my eyes again. “I think I see myself in you. At least the person I’d like to be.” I was about to interrupt again, but he continued over me explaining his thoughts. “You followed a path in life that would allow you to help others. Unfortunately for both of us, it’s not always an easy path to follow. For you, you’re being pulled into a war you didn’t sign up to fight. For me…” He hesitated. “Let’s just say, I lost my way for a while, and I’m trying to find my way back to the man I always wanted to be when I was a boy. But you, you never gave up on helping, even when you were afraid and in pain. I know I’m scared, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t admire you nonetheless, and I hope that someday you will forgive us - forgive me - for the way we treated you.”

“I… Thank you, Cullen. That means a lot.”

We were interrupted by Rylen shouting again and a man groaning and rolling in the dirt, clutching his arm.

I sighed and got up. “Well… No rest for the wicked, I suppose.”

His trademark smirk spread across his face again. “No, I suppose not,” he replied as he also got up and the two of us made our way over to the injured recruit.

* * *

“You’re not focusing,” complained Lysette.

“I  _ am _ focusing; I just don’t know what to focus  _ on _ !” I cried in frustration, pulling myself up from the ground yet again. 

Lysette was trying to teach me to be more aware of my surroundings so I’d know when to run, call for help, or fight back. It started off easily enough with being told to merely observe that first evening in the tavern at dinner. After which she quizzed me on things I should have been able to notice. I thought it was a simple task, but I quickly realized how much I had missed. For example, I should have seen that Rylen carried a dagger on a belt hidden underneath his tunic if I’d taken notice of the way his waist bulged oddly when he moved. Or that another templar in the tavern was feeling anxious based on the way he positioned himself so he could see both entrances at the same time and made sure his back was kept to the wall, or the way his eyes darted up from his stew mid-bite whenever someone entered or even laughed too loudly.

“It would help if you didn’t get lost in your own world so often.”

Of course, she’d taken note of that. It was a terrible habit I knew I needed to break well before even getting stuck here. But lately, she’d moved our training into the ‘scare-the-shit-out-of-Sophia’ stage, and my mind just needed to be able to retreat somewhere before I completely lost it. 

She would get some of the recruits or scouts to sneak up on me to test whether or not I was observing my surroundings. Sometimes the recruits would walk by normally and at the last minute lunge at me. Sometimes, they’d pass us and then double back. I was supposed to be able to see it coming by the way they were watching me, or the way they carried themselves, coiled up and tense, ready to pounce. 

But sometimes it felt like  _ everyone _ was watching me. I wasn’t sure my frayed nerves could take much more, and Lysette seemed to be giving up. “I can watch out for the both of us when I’m with you; it’s my job to be observant and see threats everywhere, but Sophie,” she said, using the nickname she picked up at my request to  _ stop  _ with the honorifics, “what will you do when I’m not with you? You wanted me to prepare you. Well, lesson number one is being able to recognize the danger before it becomes so.”

“I know. I promise I’ll try harder. I really do appreciate you helping me. I know this is hard on you.”

She shook her head. “Its not hard on me. Its my sworn duty to protect those who need to be protected.” She sighed. “Perhaps I am pushing you too fast. We’ll try this differently tomorrow; no more surprises, I promise.”

“Thank the  _ Maker _ .”

She nudged me with her shoulder and smirked. “Let’s get you back to your room. Tomorrow will be a new day, and you’ve got plenty to do.”

“That I certainly do…” The sun had only recently set, but I was exhausted from helping the healers, studying writing, and training with Lysette. When I was finally alone in my room, I threw myself on the bed, too tired to even undress, and in moments I was asleep.

* * *

As promised, training took on a different tack the next day. Instead of trying to test me on being able to observe potential dangers at any time or any place, she set up scenarios in which I could expect a danger to present itself. All I needed to do was point out who and what the danger was. We started out in the woods by the military camp. In the woods, three recruits had already gathered. They had shared something funny between them and were laughing raucously. When we approached, they quieted and turned to Lysette. “These gentlemen will be assisting us today,” she explained. 

I recognized one as the soldier whose shoulder I had reduced. “Cillian, right?”

“Yes, my Lady,” he replied, dipping his head with a slight blush. “Thank you for your help that day.”

“Please just call me Sophie. How is your shoulder?”

He smiled warmly. “It’s in excellent condition, and I’ve been much more careful to follow my superior’s instructions,” he said with a wry smile in Lysette’s direction.

“Which is why I asked the three of you to help today since you aren’t as terrible as the rest of the recruits when it comes to following direction. You already know Cillian, but this is Laurentin and Otto. Do you all remember what you were asked to do?”

All three nodded and Lysette turned to me. “Remember when we simply observed and I pointed out different mannerisms and details that could hint to concealed weapons or intent?” I nodded. “These recruits will help test you. I’ve already provided their instructions in several different scenarios that will require you to observe and then choose which one posed a threat and hopefully you’ll be able to identify the kind of threat.”

“So how will we do this?” I asked looking over all three. Laurentin looked stoic, Otto nervous, and Cillian beamed cheerfully. I wondered if he was naturally this cheery, my first impression having been tainted by the circumstances of his injury.

“First, you and I will wait here while these three set up for the scenario I had planned. They will be out in the camp, but you will know that the threat will only come from one of these three. The other two will not convey a threat.” She nodded to them and they headed back for the military camp. “First scenario, you may find yourself in one of our military camps. It may feel safe being surrounded by soldiers, but it is also possible for enemy agents to infiltrate and blend in, waiting for the moment to strike. You will walk with me through the camp and observe those around you. You will tell me which one intends you harm before he acts. Then I will ask you to explain why you chose him. Any questions?” 

So basically we were playing an advanced game of Murder that I would play at sleepovers as a little girl or in drama class. I shook my head. “Seems simple enough.”

Lysette smirked. “Let’s see how well you do.” She looped her arm around mine and pulled me back towards the camp. Once we set our pace, she dropped her arm and she glanced at me quickly. “So, how have you been?”

I sighed. “You mean personally or with… you know?” I asked, a little skeptical of her intentions.

“Whichever you prefer, Sophie. I do care about you as a person and not just about… you know…” she replied. I felt a twinge of guilt. My frustration and restlessness was not her fault, and I seemed to be lashing out at a lot of people lately over my situation. Lysette could have been cold and distant while fulfilling her duties to observe and protect me, but she wasn’t. She was open and friendly.

“I’m lonely to be honest. I miss Jack and I feel like everyone is keeping me at arm’s length. People are whispering about me too. Sometimes I worry that the rumors will grow to be worse than the truth.”

She barked a laugh. “Isn’t that just the way of things…” she said more as a statement than a question.

“Do you still feel it?” I asked, being purposefully vague as we approached the edge of the camp. I also began to scan for the three recruits. I did feel more confidence knowing I only had to look out for three rather than an entire camp full of soldiers, scouts, and recruits.

Lysette nodded. “It hasn’t gotten stronger though.” I turned to her looking hopeful. She shook her head sadly in response to my unspoken question. “It hasn’t gotten weaker either.”

“Oh…” I looked down and kicked at the dirty snow.

“Remember to focus, Sophie.”

I brought my gaze back up to the camp. “Right…”

I tried to push my fears and frustrations down. Now was not the time to reflect. I would need to train myself to save my reflection for when I knew I was somewhere safe. This was not the time to think about everything going on. I looked through the camp again trying to find the recruits.

Lysette looped her arm in mine again and pulled me closer the way a friend does to whisper conspiratorially. “You’re too obvious. Try to not be so tense and try to look without moving your head so much.”

I nodded and kept my head forward, my eyes scanning the path. I finally noticed Otto chopping wood off to the left in the outskirts of the camp. I turned to take more note of him as we passed. He looked completely focused on his task and already was beginning to be drenched in sweat. When we took a couple more paces down the row, I turned back again and he was still at it, moving on to the next block of wood. I turned to Lysette to see if she would offer any reaction. She was completely stoic. I sighed and we kept moving.

“Do you think I can actually help?” I asked, unable to keep my mind completely blank.

“Even if you didn’t have your… abilities,” she settled on the word after some thought, “you are still a valuable healer and you’ve already helped the sisters quite a lot over recent weeks.” As she spoke, I noticed Laurentin sitting outside one of the tents, sharpening a knife. He too looked completely absorbed in his task and didn’t even notice us when we passed. I was thinking of turning back to be sure when I noticed Cillian ahead of us. He was looking right at me, smiling.

I turned to tell Lysette my suspicions when I felt a hand grasp my free arm and a finger jab into my side. I jumped into Lysette with a squeak. 

She put out her hands to steady me. “And if his finger was the knife he had been sharpening, you would be dead in a few moments.”

I looked down ashamed. “I really thought-”

“That it was Cillian?” she asked as the three gathered around us. “You’ve become a recognizable figure in Haven and as a healer you will need to be accessible to people you might not know personally. You cannot simply assume anyone who pays attention to you could pose a danger. Now why did you not consider Otto?”

“He was focused on his task. He had been doing it for some time too since he was beginning to show signs of fatigue.”

“It doesn’t take much for Otto to get tired,” teased Laurentin. Otto, while admittedly a bit on the husky side, looked away embarrassed and nervous again.

Lysette nodded at my assessment. “It is good that you considered whether his manner matched the task. Which is what you failed to do with Laurentin.”

“What do you mean? He was also absorbed in his task.”

“If you had watched him closely, you should have noticed that he handled his blade with practiced and experienced movements. Someone like that should not need to focus that much on a task he has practiced many times before. His absorption was an avoidance tactic - to keep his head down to avoid us reading his face. If you had looked back before being distracted by Cillian you would have noticed that he looked up at us as we passed. But also if you had looked more closely at the side of his face, even bowed, you would have seen him tracking us with his gaze.”

I sighed and threw up my hands. Lysette patted my back comfortingly. “It’s alright. You will learn. Let’s try the next scenario.” The three recruits dispersed and we continued practicing through three more scenarios in different places including the chantry where I most often frequented and the infirmary where I would treat patients - much to the disapproval of the sisters present.


	6. Overflowing with Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia is plagued by nightmares and she begins to realize that lying wasn't as easy as she thought it was.

I decided to take a walk outside the village when fat, fluffy flakes dropped lazily from the sky that afternoon. It was mesmerizing and I wanted to take some time to truly appreciate it and be alone with my thoughts. I walked down the path past the blacksmith and circled back once I hit the bridge that led into the Valley. On my lap back, I passed by the military camp to make my way north into the woods. The trees were sparsely packed so that even though the thick flakes began to accumulate on the branches, the snow still floated lazily through the air. It felt like a magical moment, standing in the middle of the woods, far enough from the village that I couldn’t see it, and the air so thick I couldn’t hear it. For a blessed moment, I could actually pretend that I was back home. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sky, feeling the cold kiss of the snow falling on my face and wishing that I could share this moment.

Then I thought I heard something and opened my eyes. It sounded far off, but I looked around through the falling snow. Finally, my eyes settled on a figure walking toward me but it was still too difficult to see. 

And then I could finally hear the voice calling. Calling for me. “Sophia!” My heart clenched in my chest. His arm raised above his head in a wave. “Sophia!”

“It can’t…” I stood, struck dumb as hope blossomed through me like a fire. Finally the familiar form of the figure pierced through the veil of snow and my heart felt like it was bursting in my chest. I ran through the cold and right into his warm chest and comforting arms. I looked up to his face just to make sure it was him, cupped his cheeks in my hands to make sure it was real. “It’s you. It’s really you… How? Oh, forget how!” I snaked my arms around his back and squeezed him tight, resting my cheek against his chest. “I don’t care as long as you’re here.” I buried my face into his chest and cried, “God… Jack!” My body was wracked with sobs while he just stood there holding me, rubbing my back.

“Shh. It’s okay, Soph. It’s okay. I’m here.”

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes and nose. “I never should have left you.”

He picked up both of my hands and held them in his. “I know, but it’ll all be okay now. I’m here with you.”

“But how?”

“I would follow you anywhere, Sophia. It doesn’t matter how far or how difficult. I will never leave you alone.”

“God… Jack, I missed you so much!” I cried, trying to hold back the tears.

With one hand, he let go of mine and cupped the back of my head, guiding it back down to his chest. “It’s alright. I promise. You will never be alone again. I’ll be with you forever. I promise.”

“I’m so sorry for everything! I’m so sorry!” I gripped his shirt tightly in my hand and kept repeating those three words and he kept murmuring ‘I know’ and ‘It’s alright’ until I finally quieted again.

He pushed against my shoulders to make me stand on my own in front of him. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the blue box. “You know, you left this behind earlier. I was hoping you’d want it back…” he trailed off getting nervous.

“Oh, Jack...”

“Sophie… I’d follow you anywhere just to be with you. I’ll never abandon you. Please. Let me in. Let me be yours forever.”

I smiled gently at him. “You know, when I thought I had lost you, like actually lost you, all I could think of was how to get back. I wanted nothing more than to find you and let you know that I knew my answer. That I’ve known it all along,” I said going in to hug him tightly again.

Strong arms stopped me. 

He put his hands on my shoulders, the blue box still held between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Please, Sophie. I need to hear it. I need to hear your answer.”

I chuckled lightly. “You know my answer, you silly man,” I said going in to kiss him. He held me back firmly. “Jack?"

“No. I need to hear you say it. I need to hear the word. One word, Sophie. One word.”

“Jack…” I started, feeling uncomfortable.

“You never gave me an answer and then you left me. I chased after you for  _ weeks _ . You keep leaving me, Sophie. Now I just need to hear you say it. To say one word. I need to hear you promise to take me, to commit to me!” As he spoke, his voice rose steadily and his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me...”

“You  _ can’t  _ leave me again! You can’t! I just need you to promise to be mine!” Then he started to cry. “Sophie… Please.  _ Please _ !”

My mind flashed for a moment. It was a brief moment, a scene from a part of my life I’d thought lost. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it seemed to play in my mind like slow motion. 

_ “ _ _ Sophie, please!” cried Jack as I stumbled back away from him in shock. “Forgive me.” I turned to run. “PLEASE!” _

I pulled back from his grip and took two slow steps back. His face turned stoic as he let me step back. Then it suddenly contorted into a vicious snarl, changing his face into something unfamiliar. “You’re always leaving me, you stupid bitch!”

The shock made me jump and I stumbled back, falling into the fresh powder that suddenly didn't feel as cold as I felt inside. With shocking clarity, I realized that this had to be a dream and that I was not alone in it. I could sense something else, another energy or presence, was also with me... “You’re not him. He’s not here. What are you?” His face was calm again and he took a step towards me, so I crawled backward some more. “Stay away from me.”

“It’s easier if you just let me help you,” he said, taking two more steps.

“No… You’re not him. What are you?  _ Show yourself _ !” When I cried out, I felt the air ripple. The snow stopped falling midair. It was as if time itself had stopped and before me stood a twisted figure. While it looked nothing like I had expected, I knew exactly what it was. It used my desire to go home and see Jack again against me. But what stood in front of me was nothing like the desire demons depicted in any of the games. It took on a human figure, yes, but it seemed to confuse various physically attractive features in an amalgamation of both genders that were horrifically distorted. Instead of standing and moving with elegance, it stood hunched to one side, twitching as if in pain. It could use illusion to trick the mind and play on our wants and needs, but once that lie was gone, Desire turned out to be a pathetic and shallow attempt at needless, empty promises and it’s physical form mirrored it perfectly.

Its power of pretense stripped away, I began to feel more confident and stood, dusting myself off. “You’re not welcome here. Leave.” It snarled in response. “I said  _ leave _ !” I shouted and felt the air ripple again and then it was gone.

* * *

I woke slowly instead of with a start. I could remember my dream clearly and I felt very cold and alone. I wrapped my arms around myself tightly and cried. Soon I found myself losing control as tears spilled down my cheeks onto my heaving chest, beginning to moisten the tunic I had fallen asleep in. It was getting difficult to breathe and the walls of my tiny room provided no comfort. I grabbed an overcoat from my wardrobe and ran from the room, through the empty hall of the chantry, and out into the dark and quiet village. Once outside, I doubled over, placing my hands on my knees. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself.

After I calmed down, I didn’t want to return to the chantry yet, so I just walked aimlessly through the streets. I tried to keep my mind blank but flashes of Jack, the demon, and the glimpse into my lost memories kept replaying over and over again. Eventually I found myself at the village gate. I stopped walking and stood there, looking out over the quiet military camp and out beyond that to the frozen lake sparkling in the startlingly clear night. Even the skies over Haven were completely alien, its moons and constellations completely foreign to me.

A movement through the camp caught my attention. I had to stare for a few moments to make it out before I realized it was a dark silhouette of a man walking slowly through the rows of tents. He stopped at the last row, put his hands on his hips, and looked up into the sky. Then he turned and made his way back through the tents. When he got to the last row facing the village he stopped again. Closer, I recognized him as Cullen. He ran his hand up through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck. The demon used my biggest pain and desire against me. I wondered what his demons showed him. 

Cullen’s head turned and his hand stopped in midair. He slowly dropped his hand to his side, and I realized he must have seen me too. I lifted my hand up in a wordless wave. He mirrored the movement.

We dropped our arms, but neither of us made another move. We stood and stared at each others’ dark figures. Then, after some time, I clutched my overcoat tighter around me and turned back towards the village. Deciding to try to get some sleep if I could. 

* * *

I woke up again feeling like I had just gone to sleep, but someone had dropped off a basin of fresh water with a linen rag hanging off the side and lit the candle on my desk. There were echoing voices through the chantry and I knew that I needed to start my morning before Beatris came looking for me. I peeled off my clothes from yesterday, washed myself as best as I could with the rag, and redressed in a warmer linen tunic and cotton trousers. I pulled my greasy hair into a ponytail before wrapping it around itself into a twisted bun. There wasn’t much else I could do with it until I got the chance to clean it properly. I was so used to washing my hair often that it didn’t react very well after a couple days without any form of shampoo. The chill hadn’t left me since last night, so I also grabbed my overcoat that I had thrown over my chair last night when I came back in.

In the chantry proper, there were sisters and clerics milling about and whispering quietly in their small circles. Some looked around scared or accusingly at others. Seeing them over the last couple of days squabble over the death of the Divine and the nature of the Inquisition, the presence of templars or mages or even who would be fit to lead the Inquisition or become the next Divine - the state of the Chantry itself and its deep division and fear became clear. The bickering among the clergy and soldiers, templar and mage-sympathizers had only gotten worse. It was only a matter of time until it all came to a head. My presence didn’t seem to help matters much either. Every morning when I would leave my room and walk over to join Beatris, stares and whispers would follow me. The advisers, Aiden, and Lysette have said nothing to anyone else about my recent ‘abilities’ but the fact that I was locked and under guard for almost a week right after nearly collapsing in front of everyone then running off to the war room… there have been rumors. Some pretty accurate and some wild and scandalous or even more frightening than the truth.

During breakfast I noticed Leliana heading for Josephine’s office. When she passed us, her head turned to the side briefly to make eye-contact with me before looking straight ahead again. Something felt off with her glance. I was fairly certain she still didn’t trust me. There was no doubt she believed my visions, she  _ had  _ to, but trusting  _ me _ was an altogether different story. I would need to figure out a way to deal with her sooner or later. My best hope to get her to trust me again would probably make her hate me at first. I didn’t doubt that she would eventually trust the Herald fully, but I strongly believed that in order to get her to trust me too, she would need to soften a bit. Perhaps I could get the Herald to trust me and talk to him about guiding her along this path, but I wondered if I could do it too.

When Leliana left Josephine’s office I decided I would give it a try. I waited for her to make eye-contact again and, sure enough, she did. When both our eyes connected, I winced and turned, grabbing my head. Beatris reached out across the table to fuss over me, but when I looked back at Leliana, her gaze was straight ahead again, but her gait picked up and was heading back towards Josie’s office.

I turned back to Beatris who appeared to be mulling over something in her mind. “Sophia, are you alright?”

I nodded. “It doesn’t hurt as bad as when it first happened.”

“But  _ what _ is happening?”

I sighed. “We don’t know for sure yet and until we do, we don’t want to say anything.”

“I see…”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but we don’t even know what's going on yet and whether or not it’s connected to what happened to me in the Fade, but I’m being taken care of. Don’t you worry,” I said reaching out and patting her hand.

She pulled it back and clasped them in her lap. “Aiden won’t even tell me what is going on with you.”

“I really wish I could tell you…” But as I said the words, I questioned whether they were true. Beatris was a part of the Chantry and while she didn’t seem to mind working with mages, they still feared magic, especially unknown magic and untrained persons. I was also fairly certain that she was beginning to get an idea about what was going on since most rumors centered around me causing or being plagued by magic. Being followed day and night by a templar probably didn’t help with that either. 

Beatris reached back out across the table and grabbed my hand. “Whatever is happening to you, it will all be alright. I know it. The Maker is with us and he is watching over you. And so am I.”

That was a response that I did not expect. So far everyone had responded with fear or mistrust, but Beatris, she saw  _ me _ as a person who needed help and reassurance. I turned my hand and gripped hers tightly. “Thank you…”

I looked up as Josephine approached. Beatris dropped my hand and turned to face her. “Ambassador. Good morning,” she greeted warmly.

“Good morning, Sister. Sophie.” I nodded in response. “Would you mind joining me in my office?”

“Sure,” I said getting up. I was fairly certain this would have to do with what just occurred with Leliana and the nerves began to play out in my stomach. I was beginning to wish that I didn’t share that glass of wine with Beatris during breakfast.

Sure enough, Leliana was waiting for us in Josephine’s office. I felt like a child being led to the principal’s office. “Sophie, please sit,” said Josephine kindly while waving her hand to a chair by her desk. It definitely felt like the principal’s office.

Josephine got straight to the point. “I received a report that you took a stroll through Haven last night.”

I had completely forgotten about my midnight jaunt. Alone and without escort. And it probably looked bad that I went right for the gates. “Oh… I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I had a bad dream and just felt like I needed some air.”

“What kind of dream?” asked Leliana.

I figured bringing up the demon would only cause more fear and doubt, so I erred on the side of caution. “About Jack…” I tapered off, letting them see the sadness. It wasn’t a manufactured sadness either. Seeing Jack in my dreams, feeling that hope for the briefest moment only to have it abused and be terrorized by a demon… It was a painful experience.

“I’m sorry, Sophie,” offered Josephine, patting my shoulder consolingly. “But you must think about how dangerous it is to do something like that. Even ignoring the importance you may serve to the Inquisition yourself, a woman wandering outside alone in the middle of the night is dangerous enough.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That was apparent,” added Leliana. “You cannot be so careless.”

“I won’t. I’m even training with Lysette to learn how to protect myself.” I wondered how they found out about my midnight walk. Was it one of Leliana’s scouts? Was it Cullen?

“That is wonderful, but…” started Josephine.

Leliana finished for her, “That does not mean you should put yourself in dangerous situations needlessly.”

“So I’m never allowed to leave the chantry? Leave Haven?”

“That is not true…” started Josephine again.

And again, Leliana interjected, “Until we know the nature of your visions and the extent of the Fade’s influence on you, yes.”

“Leliana!” chided Josephine.

“We cannot let an unknown magic wander freely, Josie. And if others discovered her ability to see future events, it would be used against us!”

I chuckled mirthlessly. “So I’m a tool then.”

“No, Sophie…”

“Yes.” 

I winced as the two bickered about me some more. I stared straight ahead trying to tune them out. Leliana truly was hardened. I wondered if she ever really could trust the Herald or if she just saw him as a useful tool too. I shook my head. No, there had to be hope for her and if I couldn’t reach her on a human level then I’d just have to find a way to prove to her I could be a more versatile tool. 

Josephine eventually left the office, leaving me with Leliana. I kept my gaze straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.

She sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust your visions.”

_ Your visions _ , she said. She carefully avoided saying whether or not she trusted  _ me _ . I didn’t miss that.

“Oh, I know that’s not the issue here,” I said getting up.

“Oh? And what is?”

I looked her in the eyes, deciding to try to reach her humanity. Whether I could or whether this would only become the responsibility of the Herald was a huge gamble. “You’ve forgotten what you’re fighting for.”

“Excuse me?” she challenged. “You don’t know me or what I’m fighting for.”

“I know what you think you’re fighting for. You’re fighting for Justinia, for Thedas itself, but those are very big goals and you forget that fighting for Justinia means fighting for the Chantry and the people it serves. Fighting for Thedas is the easier answer to fighting for all the people who are put at risk, including those  _ we _ put at risk thanks to the choices we make. Its easier to tell ourselves when we make decisions which ultimately harm others that it was all ‘for the greater good.’”

Leliana didn’t speak, so I walked for the door.

I stopped and turned to face when I reached the door. “Sometimes when we climb high enough, it can be difficult to look back down and recognize the small figures below us as living beings. It can become easy to see them as pawns being moved in a game, but don’t forget that we’re all still people who have the same hopes and fears as you do.”

She shook her head. “You just don’t get it. In war there has to be people on the front lines taking orders and giving their lives. We need the greater good.  _ They _ need the greater good. Without it what are they fighting for? But there also has to be those of us who stay behind and plan. The ones whose decisions will save everyone else. You think I enjoy needing to remain behind? You think I don't wish I could be out there fighting alongside the Herald? We cannot afford the luxury of seeing beyond the bigger picture.”

“No, I  _ do  _ understand, and I don't envy those of you that make the decisions and bear the weight of them on your shoulders. Just don’t forget about those you shuffle around the field like pieces on a board. We aren’t lifeless pawns. I know a part of you remembers that. Its the same part that still hurts to this day for becoming a pawn yourself, manipulated and abused. Then the Divine lifted you up, raised you to her Left Hand a piece of you wishes to forget that small, insignificant little girl you were made to feel like. You can’t forget, Leliana. Or you risk becoming just like Marjolaine.”

Leliana quickly schooled her features, but I didn’t miss the initial shock followed by the anger. “When?” was all she asked. 

I knew what she was asking. “When you approached at breakfast.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“I saw you and the Hero of Fereldan confronting her.” I couldn’t be sure exactly how that confrontation went down, so I left it at that; however, by the brief flicker of grief, I could guess. 

“ _ How _ ?” she asked suddenly and looking suspicious. I looked at her, not understanding. “The Herald was not there.”

Realization hit. A week ago we had agreed that my visions seemed to center around the Herald’s future. Now I seemed to be changing those rules. I had even reminded myself of that when I tried to figure out how to deal with Cullen. I reached for a way to plausibly explain it. “I don’t know,” I said shrugging. “Maybe my visions are growing, but I can tell you this. What happened with you then felt… Well, it felt significant. Like the choices you made all those years ago had ripple effects that will come affect the Inquisition - the Herald - today.”

She seemed to think about that for a few moments, eyeing me cautiously. Then she nodded, saying nothing more, so I left her in Josephine’s office and went to wait for Lysette outside. As I left the chantry a dwarf with auburn hair and dense freckles approached me. I took in a quick breath, immediately knowing this was Scout Harding.

“Lady Darrow?” she asked with confidence.

“Yes?” I answered back with less confidence.

“I was hoping for a quick word, if you don’t mind,” she said indicating the side of the chantry with a quick movement of her hand.

I nodded with uncertainty but followed when she walked to the spot she had indicated. It was quiet and isolated. She stopped beneath a snow-covered pine and waited for me. When I stepped close she examined me again, her eyes hard.

“W-what can I… do for you?” I asked slowly.

“You can explain just exactly who you are,” she said slowly, watching my face. I could see confirmation in her eyes when I failed to keep my face straight, my mouth falling open slightly and the chill in my body as blood drained from my face.

I tried to recover. “What… what do you mean?”

“I received a raven from Leliana shortly after we secured Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands. It had quite a few surprising things to say. I’m sure you already know the contents of most of the letter,” she said scanning my face for recognition before continuing, and I did recognize that she must be referring to my visions, but why would she be questioning me now? “The least of which, for me, was the tale of a skilled healer who studied under the healer who had just recently died during at the Crossroads. You see, I grew up in the Hinterlands, and that healer used to stitch me up and mend my bones whenever I got myself into trouble - which was a lot. But I never once heard of or knew of an apprentice.”  _ Holy shit _ , I thought to myself as I realized my mistake. “So imagine my surprise when Leliana asks me about you.”

I took a step back from her, trying to decide if I should run, but I was certain that even with her short and stocky nature, she’d catch me. What's more, why the hell hadn’t Leliana killed me already? “Wh-what did you tell her?”

She sighed and looked off to the side for a moment before shaking her head and shrugging. “The thing is, by the time I set to write back about you, we'd already confirmed what you saw about the Herald.”

I didn’t understand what she was saying at first, but she looked slightly uncomfortable with the trail of thought she was following. She looked like she was preparing to say something big. She looked like she was about to confess something.

Then it dawned on me. “You  _ lied _ \--” I paused, realizing I was being to loud and then continued with a whisper. “You  _ lied _ to the Spymaster?”

She nodded in confirmation, examining my face hard again. “Look. I don’t know what you’re hiding from, but know that I’m watching you.  _ Carefully _ . And if you pose any threat to the Herald… know that you won’t have to worry about Leliana - I’ll take care of you myself.”

I was too distracted by her words to fully absorb the threat. She didn’t say  _ what you’re hiding _ but  _ what you’re hiding _ from. This gave me some hope that she thought I was lying to hide my background out of fear of something else. In a way it was partially true. She started by asking me to tell her who I was, but now she seemed content to let me be as long as I knew that she was watching. 

Then I noticed the hard look still on her face and remembered her threat. “O-of course. I… I won’t...” Then I floundered for what to say.  _ I won’t let you do wn ?  I won’t pose a threat _ _?_ I didn’t know what to say, but she seemed to understand and her gaze softened - only slightly.

She stared at me for a few more moments before nodding her head to the side. “I’ll let you get back to your training. Lysette is waiting.”

And then she was gone and I was stuck there wondering how much more I had managed to screw up in my thoughtlessness. I hated being here - in a world I barely knew. I hated backing myself into corners because of things I didn’t know or things I  _ should have known _ . I felt deep dread settle in my stomach, making me feel sick. It would only be a matter of time before they found the truth. Hopefully I’d be well on my way back to the Fade by then. 

I took a deep breath and steadied myself before going to find Lysette.

As my training progressed over the last several days, she sought the help of different scouts and recruits so I didn’t get too familiar with certain recruit’s mannerisms. I was actually getting better at it, but I think I learned more from my failures than from my successes. I certainly appreciated Lysette’s creativity and planning. Even sitting in the tavern, I felt like I learned more by watching people than I ever could have by playing through the game. I started to consider how I could use this skill to enhance my ‘ability’ and use it to influence others.

When her confidence in me grew, she added more “players” and eventually stopped letting me know ahead of time who would be involved. One afternoon she met me outside of Haven in only her breeches and a tunic and informed me that she would continue to test me more periodically and without warning again. This time I wasn’t as nervous as I felt better prepared, but today seemed to be going in a different direction. 

“Rule number one is to always be aware of your surroundings. When you notice trouble, rule number two is to call for help. Allow those of us with more experience to protect you. Now let’s focus on rule number three,” she explained as we walked to the southern edge of the military camp. 

“Great! I’m ready,” I said stretching and loosening up. For me, the next logical step in learning to defend myself was to actually  _ defend _ myself.

Lysette nodded in approval when I began stretching. “Good. Rule three: the next logical step in keeping yourself safe. When circumstances do not allow you to call for or receive help and even when you do successfully call for help, you  _ run _ .”

I slumped, defeated. “Run?!”

Lysette nodded. “You run. You are not a fighter. If it is at all possible for you to escape the situation, you do so. And you’ve been cooped up in Haven and the Chantry for weeks now, so if you truly anticipate danger in your future, you should be in the right shape to handle it.”

I groaned. I saw where this was going. “How am I to do that?” I don’t know why I asked. I already knew the answer. A part of me perhaps hoped it’d be a different one.

She shrugged. “You run. You will build up stamina and endurance through constant practice so for the next couple of weeks, we will run.”

“We?”

“Yes, we,” she said, stretching. I felt mildly comforted that at least I would not suffer alone. 

We ran for the gate that led into the Valley before doubling back toward Haven. A couple of times along the way I needed to slow to a jog or a brisk walk in order to catch my breath. On a couple of those breaks, I had considered calling the whole thing off. I didn’t need training right? I’d be fine, right? I was surrounded by soldiers and warriors. The villagers weren’t out here, running and training. 

_ But those villagers are usually nameless fodder who end up dying anyway _ , a dark voice in the back of my head whispered.  Thedas was dangerous - no, deadly. I needed to be more prepared if I wanted to ever leave Haven and god-forbid join a battle. 

When we made it back to Haven she stopped. “That should be good for today. As we continue, we can add more laps or longer distances.” I crouched over, resting my hands on my knees with sweat dripping down my forehead and groaned in protest. I definitely was not looking forward to our daily practices anymore. She chuckled in response and pat my back reassuringly. “Come, lets go eat.”

We both walked together towards the tavern back in the village. As we passed Seggrit’s stall I noticed Cullen turning from him in frustration and stalking back towards the gate. After taking a few steps looking at his feet, he looked up and noticed us coming. He paused briefly before continuing on his way. I tried to look away so he didn’t catch me looking, but every time my eyes flitted back over his face and our eyes met, his would guiltily focus elsewhere, but they would find their way back to me. It began to make me feel slightly uncomfortable, like I had some terrible deformity that I wasn’t aware of. Then I remembered my lessons.  _ Be observant. If you’re ever uncomfortable, call for help _ . I looked straight at him, a smirk on my lips and I pulled Lysette to a stop as he walked by.

“It’s Cullen, isn’t it?”

Cullen stopped and turned to face us. “Sorry?” he asked confused at the same time as Lysette’s equally confused, “Excuse me?”

My face fell and I felt my cheeks get hot. “You’re… not part of the exercise are you?”

“What exercise?”

Lysette began to laugh next to me and I tugged harshly on her arm to get her to stop. “My apologies, Commander. I’ve been working with Sophie on skills to help protect herself. We’ve been working on being observant and noticing when someone could be dangerous. I’ve been using some of your recruits to help test her. I’ve coached them on how to behave in order to test her ability to recognize another’s undue focus on her.”

“Ah. I see,” he said before his eyebrows scrunched down as he took in her words. His neck was beginning to turn a blotchy pink beneath he fur. “That…” he started, but stopped to clear his throat. “That is wise.” Then he added awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “Good work...” He looked around for a moment. “I should…” he began, pointing for the gate. He loudly cleared his throat again and then he was gone.

“ _T_ _ hat _ was weird…” I said, but Lysette only laughed some more. I pulled against her arm again. “It’s not funny…”

“It was a little funny,” she offered. 

She continued talking, but I stopped paying attention. I kept replaying the scene in my mind over again. This whole time she’s been teaching me to be observant so I could notice the mannerisms of those who focused too much on me and discern their potential as a threat. Cullen was uncomfortable when I caught him out. He’d admitted that I scared him in the past, but this much? In the games, Cullen didn’t run terrified from a mage Inquisitor. What was it about me then? After all his talking - calling me brave and saying he admired my sense of duty - this was his true opinion of me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt betrayed. I was beginning to regret my lessons with Lysette and wished I could return to my previous blissful ignorance. But I knew this was my fault. He knew this whole time that there was some unknown magic within me, but at first he was comforting and kind. Once I started faking visions about Maxwell, he began to withdraw, watching me accusingly. At least I still had Beatris, Lysette, and I think even Josephine. When the Herald arrived, I’d have to make sure I could also get him to trust me. If I had the Herald on my side, then I wouldn’t need Cullen or Leliana. 

As we got closer to the tavern, a commotion by the chantry drew our attention.


	7. The Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia meets the Herald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter used to be crazy-long, so I split it into two. This one focuses on meeting the Herald, the next focuses on meeting Solas. There will be some canon dialogue in this scene.

There was a crowd growing in front of the chantry, but I was able to spot Beatris by the entrance. I made my way to her and whispered, “What’s going on?” She merely shook her head and stared hard at the scene. A recruit was picking a fight with one of the Inquisition mages - one who had accompanied his superiors to the Conclave and decided to stay after the explosion. He had been pushed to the ground by a soldier who used to be a Templar recruit and also stayed behind after the explosion. “Take that back!” he spat, looking down on the mage.

The mage picked himself up and brushed off the dirt, looking unperturbed which seemed to anger the soldier more. “I will not," he said calmly.

The soldier pushed the mage again. “You lie! The Templars had nothing to do with it!  _ Your  _ kind killed the Most Holy!” 

I sucked in a breath. This was it. The commander would jump in and then the Herald would appear.

“Lies!  _ Your  _ kind let her die!” spat back the mage, seeming to get riled up by his accusation.

Beatris muttered next to me. “This bickering helps no one…” I looked over to her and nodded. They both joined the Inquisition because they saw a need they felt they could meet. They both left behind their Order and and their Rebellions in order to serve against a greater evil. Why couldn’t they see that and work together? It was then that I noticed slightly behind Beatris and to the left, Chancellor Roderick was leaning against the chantry wall with his arms crossed watching the scene. His face showed distaste, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes sparkled to see the fledgling Inquisition bicker amongst themselves. The arguing brought back my attention.

“Shut your mouth, mage!” growled the ex-templar, reaching for his sword. In a flash of burgundy, the Commander was between the two of them. "Knight-Captain!” exclaimed the soldier in equal parts surprise and disappointment.

Cullen leveled a stare at the man. “That is not my title," he chided. "We are not templars any longer,” he turned somewhat to address the gathering crowd, pointing at the ex-templar and the mage. “We are  _ all _ part of the Inquisition!”

The Chancellor pushed himself off the wall and approached. “And what does that  _ mean, _ exactly?”

Cullen glowered at the approaching man and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

The Chancellor paced, looking like a lion circling its prey. This man looked old, but certainly not weak. In fact, in this moment, even with his smaller frame, he appeared to dominate the weary Commander. “I’m curious, Commander,” he said with a smug tone that made my insides burn. “As to how your Inquisition and its “herald” will restore order as you’ve promised.” This man was a politician who knew how to manipulate a crowd. In this sense, Cullen was powerless.

“Of course you are…” he glowered at him again, one that would have made me shrink, but it seemed to only embolden and even delight the Chancellor. Cullen turned to the gathering crowd and I noticed a figure working through the people towards them, only a head of messy black hair visible as it moved forward. “Back to your duties, all of you!”

As the crowd dispersed, I kept my eyes on that black hair. Finally, the crowd parted just enough so I could see him and I was shocked. He looked young, painfully so. He looked like he was just reaching his mid-twenties, if even that. His skin was smooth with the exception of an angry looking scar that marred his left cheek. But what stood out most were his strikingly blue eyes that stood out in contrast with his slightly tanned skin and dark hair. He was thin, but the open sleeve of his leather armor showed a very toned bicep and his ungloved left hand still glowed with the magic of the Fade. This was Maxwell Trevelyan - the Herald of Andraste and future Inquisitor.

During his approach, the Commander and the Chancellor continued bickering. “Mages and templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” spat back Roderick.

“Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?” Beatris gasped and bit back a chortle, and I widened my eyes in surprise. I had completely forgotten that Cullen was, in fact, not that helpless in the presence of conniving politicians. After all, the cold, hard truth could bruise much more than spun tales and sensationalism.

The Chancellor turned red and sputtered. “The rebel Inquisition and it’s so-called “Herald of Andraste”? I think not!”

Finally, Maxwell reached the two and I was curious for his response - to learn his mannerisms and personality. “Oh, I don’t know, the Inquisition seems as functional as any young family.” 

I smirked. Humor. I could deal with that. The Herald scanned the dissipating crowd briefly and his eyes settled on me for a moment, recognition on his face. I let my smirk fall and I bowed my head, partly to show respect, partly out of discomfort. Why did he recognize me? It felt unnerving. I kept my eyes on him nonetheless.

“How many  _ families _ are on the verge of splitting into open war with themselves?”

“Yes, because that would  _ never _ happen to the Chantry,” replied Cullen. I did enjoy his unrestrained sarcasm. Ever since he found out about my visions, the man frustrated me to no end, but at least he wasn’t blindly prejudiced in favor of a broken Chantry.

“Centuries of tradition guide us! We’re not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart.” Roderick looked like he wanted to spit now.

Maxwell turned to Cullen, folding his arms behind his back. He looked relaxed, but I could tell he was purposely doing it to show the Chancellor that he didn’t scare him. He also refused to address the Chancellor directly which seemed to greatly irritate the man. “Remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?” However, as he spoke I couldn’t help but notice that his attention was also being pulled back to me, though he tried to not show it.

The Chancellor sputtered again. It was amusing how quickly he could turn into a seething, spitting mess if the right buttons were pressed. “Clearly your  _ templar  _ knows where to draw the line!” I frowned at that. Sure I was upset with Cullen’s prejudice, but he didn’t need a cleric of the Chantry insinuating his purpose as a leashed dog - which was one of the reasons why the Templar Order left the Chantry in the first place. He also didn’t need to have his conviction and resolution to leave the Order constantly ignored or dismissed. Everyone seemed to do it; even Beatris did it when I first met the commander.

Cullen appeared to shrug it off, however, and responded to the Herald, also trying to exclude the Chancellor. “He’s toothless. The Chancellor’s a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.”

The Herald thought about this for a moment then nodded before he clapped the Commander on the shoulder. “Don’t let anyone riot while we’re gone,” he said with a tone of mock concern, but his eyes also conveyed a real worry.

Cullen nodded. “The walls will be standing when you return. I hope…”

Maxwell pat Cullen’s shoulder twice more and turned to leave him to a fuming Chancellor. As he approached me, I noticed a few more words exchanged between the two before Cullen turned and walked away, waving his hand dismissively at the Chancellor. Before I could follow their movements more, my attention was drawn back to the soon-to-be-Inquisitor who was now standing in front of me. I was surprised at how short he was. He couldn’t be more than a few inches taller than me and I’m only 5’5. He carried himself in such a way that I had believed he was very much taller, up until the point in which he was standing right in front of me.

“Lady Darrow,” he said with a slight bow. I was momentarily left speechless at the fact that he knew me well enough to approach me with such confidence. “My apologies. I left before you had awakened. You seem to be in much better health.”

I replied with much less confidence. “I am, thank you.”

He waved his arm towards the chantry. An invitation. 

I walked inside and he followed before picking up his pace and leading me into Josephine’s empty office. He stood at the threshold as I entered. When I did he shut the door softly and turned to face me. 

“After the Breach was stabilized you were brought down from the field hospital at the temple. When I awoke after sealing the Breach and Cassandra cleared me of charges against the Divine’s death, I was led into the…” he made a face, “ _ cells _ where you were being kept. Apparently they had been arguing about you a lot while I slept. They brought me in to see you and questioned me relentlessly as to whether I recognized you or knew you. Imagine their dismay when I told them that I hadn’t the foggiest,” he said with a smirk. “But looking at you, I couldn’t help feel that you were also a victim of circumstance.” Then his expression turned to one of concern. “We weren’t sure you’d even survive. As the only other traveler from the Fade, I was hoping you would though,” he said with a smile. “They had just asked me to join them, so I told them that I refused to let them treat you like they did me. I hope they kept their word.”

I sighed with a small measure of relief and sat in the chair in front of Josephine’s desk. At least he didn’t seem to think I was responsible. “They did. Thank you,” I replied timidly; my nerves were getting the better of me. I wasn’t sure why this man made me feel so unsure of myself, but perhaps it was because now he wasn’t a character that I could mold and control - choose his personality and his choices. He was a living, breathing, independent character - no person - of his own, and he was  _ The _ Herald of Andraste. It was a little scary not knowing exactly who he would be and what kinds of choices he would make. “Why did you decide to trust me?”

Maxwell appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe it was something Varric had said to me before I was brought to you." He smirked when I perked up at the mention of Varric and continued to explain. "He told me that I should actually consider running - that he’s learned heroes are everywhere. But the Breach…” he said shaking his head. “The Breach requires more than heroes. It requires, and I quote, ‘a damn miracle.’” He locked eyes with me in a way that felt significant and incredibly unnerving. It felt like he could look read my eyes and see everything about me. “I’m beginning to think you are that miracle, and trusting you… Well, maybe that was Andraste guiding me.” I suddenly wondered if this Herald was a devout Andrastian as well. Then my heart reached out to him, realizing how crushing the revelations at the battles of Haven and Adamant would be for him.

I broke my gaze from him and looked down at my hands, uncomfortable. I knew I needed to become important to the Inquisition so that I could have leverage to find a way back home, but this felt wrong.

Maxwell cleared his throat. “Do you remember anything of your time in the Fade?” His eyes were searching and hopeful.

I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

His face fell. “Well I suppose it is a small comfort that I’m not the only one then…”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help…”

He dismissed my apology as unnecessary with a wordless wave of his hand. “You already have helped,” he started, half-sitting, half-leaning on Josephine’s desk in front of me. “The Ambassador had quite the interesting tale for me when I was in the Hinterlands.”

I interrupted him for a moment, hoping to strengthen my backstory and garner some sympathy or at the very least to discern more of his personality. “I’m sorry Herald, but while you were there, did you notice the state of my home?” He looked on questioningly, prompting me to give him more information. “We lived near Fort Conner. It was close to the templar encampment so I had hoped you’d have passed by…” I tapered off as his expression went from curious to understanding, then to sadness. “Oh…” I finished as if reading the answer from his face. I already knew the state of the homes there, but it was good to see his reaction of genuine concern. His initial concern for how they treated me before I woke up and his reaction now told me that he was someone who seemed to care very much for the well-being of others.

“I am sorry, Lady Darrow.”

“Please. Just Sophia. I am not a Lady and Darrow was my mother’s name; I don’t even know her family. The name means little to me.”

“What of your father?”

I shrugged. “Never knew him. Not even his name. My mother never spoke of him.” I loved my parents dearly and wondered if my dad would have been wounded by my erasing him from my backstory here. But the less family ties I had the easier it would be to create a persona in this world that I barely knew. I had already screwed up by using my real name - a name that actually belonged to a minor noble house in Starkhaven and by forgetting about Scout Harding growing up in the Hinterlands herself. I needed to limit the ties I claimed to have.

“Okay, Sophia No-Family-Name…” he replied joking.

“It was going to be Evans…” I started then abruptly hated myself for bringing it up. My chest tightened along with my throat and my eyes began to sting. I turned my face away from him and took a deep breath to try to get control.

Maxwell looked at me confused for a moment before he demonstrated his understanding with a wordless ‘Ah.’ Then confusion came back to his face. “Wait, it  _ was  _ going to be?”

I didn’t think I could tell my story  _ again _ , but this was the Herald - potentially my greatest ally - so I did. It wasn’t that keeping up the lie was all that difficult - I just had to make sure I told it in a slightly different way so that my story didn’t seem rehearsed - but the pain of realizing we were separated with no way back to each other and the frightening reminder in my dreams were still fresh. I couldn’t keep from letting a few genuine tears fall as I tried to explain. 

Maxwell patted around on his body a few moments helplessly, then looked around the office. Behind him he noticed a bit of silk laying on Josephine’s desk, picked it up, and offered it to me saying, “She’ll forgive me.” I accepted it with a laugh and a ‘Thank you’ and wiped at my cheeks and poked at my eyes.

“Sophia. I am very sorry for everything this war has taken from you. Truly, and here I was about to make a right ass of myself saying that I was glad you came to us.” I laughed mirthlessly. “I mean, I still am, but now that I know the circumstances that brought you here…” He shook his head.

I sniffled for a few moments more while I sought desperately to change the subject. “You’re really happy I’m here?”

He looked at me strangely and barked a laugh. “You’re joking right? You know, when I first received Josephine’s letter I was ready to laugh it off as a joke, but… then everything you had advised was  _ actually _ true and not only that but  _ really  _ helpful.”

“It was?” I asked hopeful.

He smirked. “Wouldn’t you know that, O-All-Seeing-One?”

I chuckled. “It doesn’t work that way. I only see flashes of things.”

He nodded, making a show of thinking to himself before responding. “I’ll have to tell Varric to nix the name then.” I dropped my jaw and paled a moment, hoping he was joking. I definitely did _not_ want to be referred to that way. He shifted on the desk, leaning back on his hands, and continued, “So when do you get these flashes? What happens?”

“I get this pain in my head and the world goes blank, then I see and hear someone else’s. I don’t know how I get them.”

“When did you get the first one?”

“About a week ago. I was speaking with Sister Beatris about your trip to the Hinterlands and it suddenly happened. It was a long one full of flashes of different moments and you were in all of them.”

He squirmed for a moment, slightly uncomfortable. “What have you seen about me?”

“I’ve seen mostly things you were doing in the Hinterlands. Fighting, helping the refugees, getting between Varric and Cassandra’s bickering…”

He laughed out loud at the last part. “If only I had you around to warn me of the futility of the exercise.” I laughed in response. “What about yourself? You must witness flashes of your own future often? What does the future hold for you?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen myself.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really? Never?”

“Not as of yet. I’ve only seen details of those who seem important to the Inquisition.”

He nodded slowly and mumbled to himself. It was hard to make out, but I think I heard ‘will of the Maker.’ He focused on me again with a look I couldn’t recognize. “Sophia. I think you underestimate the significance you will hopefully play in all this.”

I looked down, uncomfortable. I hoped he saw it as modesty, but really I felt like a big, fat fraud. Sure lying and spinning my tales came easy. I had to lie about my origins. There was no way they’d believe me if I told them where I  _ really  _ came from, but that didn’t mean I was completely comfortable with it. In fact, I was growing increasingly  _ uncomfortable _ with how easy the lying came to me.

Maxwell shifted, also uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I’m making an ass out of myself again, aren’t I? I didn’t even ask. Do you  _ want _ to be a part of the Inquisition?” No one had even asked me that question yet. The fact that he was even asking suddenly meant the world to me. “I myself wasn’t really given a choice; well, I mean I  _ was _ , but one choice was to join and the other wasn’t really an option," he explained. He had an expressive face that showed a good-natured humor with the way his nose would wrinkle when he squinted to indicate sarcasm or irony.

I sighed in response to his question and rested my chin in the palm of my hand, looking straight ahead. I thought about my possible options in the reality of my situation and in the lie I constructed. Either way, I really had no other viable option. “I suppose then we are the same.”

He smirked sadly. “We really are like peas in a pod aren’t we? Sure it’s a scary, Fade-influenced, demon-filled pod, but a pod nonetheless.”

We continued talking for some time after that. I didn’t even realize when it had happened, but I had become comfortable talking to him. He was really easy to talk to and, unlike the others, didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive for genuinely listening and talking with me. As I became more comfortable, I shared more about my time here while he was in the Hinterlands. He shared bits of his journey as well. We joked about our situation as well as various kinds of off-color humor that would have most likely offended the advisors or the sisters. It was so easy and for the first time since I arrived in Thedas, I felt like I had a friend. Not just someone who took pity on me, tried to placate me, or gain information from me, but truly someone who was interested in  _ me _ . Someone I could share a connection with. I also realized it was entirely too  _ dangerous _ , but in this moment, I was so starved for genuine connection that I didn’t care.

Suddenly a soft knock interrupted our tear-filled laughter after an entirely inappropriate joke about getting a Chanter to break their Chant of Light. We both looked up to see Josephine poking her head through the door. “Pardon the intrusion, Herald, but the meeting will start soon.”

Maxwell jumped off her desk and smoothed his clothes. “Nonsense, Ambassador. You could never intrude,” he replied formally. I cocked my head to the side and mentally added smooth-talking noble to my growing list of traits for him. He turned to me and offered his hand to help me from the chair I was still sitting in. “Please, join us.”

I took his hand, butterflies bursting in my stomach. I had hoped for this outcome, but now that it was here, it made me nervous. I followed them both into the War Room. Cullen and Leliana looked up upon our arrival and glanced longer than I was comfortable in my direction. I stood off to the side, hoping to just blend into the background until it was necessary for me to say anything.

“Sophia,” called Josephine delighted. So much for invisible, I thought to myself. “You’ve already met the Herald, Lord Maxwell Travelyan. May I introduce you to Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.”

I hadn’t even noticed Cassandra who was standing off to the side opposite me. She nodded her head to me in a quick thrust. One could interpret it as being curt, but the action didn’t match the rest of her face. “I hear you are to thank for the assistance outside of Redcliffe.” I nodded silently, somewhat in awe of her. She was much taller and muscular than I had anticipated and she carried herself in a way that was incredibly intimidating. She was actually taller than Maxwell. I wondered what it must have been like for him, having this incredibly imposing woman push him around when he first woke up. Her scars were also much more prominent on her face, but in spite of all that, she was striking in a classically beautiful way. Not in a way that, by my society’s standards, would be considered ‘hot,’ but instead she looked like one of the ancient women depicted in Roman statues. She noticed my gaze and probably sensed my intimidation. Her features softened suddenly and she relaxed her stance. She gave a single, slow nod when she spoke again, making an effort at showing sincerity. “Thank you.”

“So,” began the Herald, breaking me from my stare. I realized I was still looking on in awe, not responding to her. She was also becoming visibly self-conscious. I turned to Maxwell with a blush. “You’ve all read my report from the Hinterlands, including Mother Giselle’s advice on how to handle the Chantry…” he concluded with a tone that left things open. He wanted to hear their thoughts.

Josephine was the first to share, her words not unfamiliar to me. “Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea.”

Cullen snorted and unfolded his arms. “You  _ can’t _ be serious.”

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong. At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” countered Leliana.

“Let’s ask him,” she said and they all turned to Maxwell, asking him to end their debate.

Maxwell sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m more concerned that this won’t actually solve any problems.”

“I agree,” added Cullen. “It just lends to the idea that we should care what the Chantry says.”

“ _ Shouldn’t  _ we?” countered Leliana again. I actually agreed with Leliana’s logic. If I wasn’t aware of the outcome, I would have been exceedingly worried about the threat the Chantry itself posed.

“I will go with him,” interjected Cassandra, hoping to placate Cullen and Leliana. She turned to Leliana. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us with names? Use them.”

“But why? This is nothing but a -”

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach,” reasoned Cassandra. She then turned to Josephine. “Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

“This is a bad idea…” grumbled Cullen.

“Why don’t we ask Sophie,” offered Josephine. And suddenly everyone was looking at me.

I shrank back, uncomfortable. This is what I was aiming for, but now that I was here with everyone's eyes on me, the scrutiny was more than I thought I could handle. “M-me?”

“Yes, you,” replied Josephine.

“You  _ are _ the one with the visions,” added Leliana.

“Have you seen anything about what will happen in Val Royeaux?” asked the Herald gently. He seemed to be the only one who even tried to understand my visions.

I shook my head. “I can’t just call them up at will.” I knew exactly what would happen actually, but I needed to make sure I could accompany the Herald on future missions. Perhaps if I withheld information until closer to his trip, they'd find more value in having me tag along.

“Then how-” started Leliana, but the Herald interrupted.

“When we spoke earlier about your visions… you were thinking about me or discussing me with others when your vision happened, correct?” I nodded. “You didn’t see anything from our discussion just now?” I shook my head. “Perhaps if you came with us, then? Maybe seeing it will trigger something.”

My internal rejoicing was abruptly cut short to the quick reactions of the advisers. “Wait just a moment!” cried Leliana over Cullen’s, “Absolutely not!”

Cassandra sighed loudly beside the Herald and swept her gaze over to him, speaking to him silently. It seemed to be expressing exasperation. “Sophia lived in the Hinterlands. I doubt a trip to Val Royeaux will present her with excessive danger,” explained Maxwell. “Besides, I’ll be much more comfortable knowing she will be there.”

I whipped my head in his direction so fast my neck hurt. “Really?” I asked in surprise. We’d only just met and he was already trusting me so easily.

He nodded. “You’ve said it yourself. Your visions are only flashes and sometimes hard to understand. I’d rather hear it from you in person than try to interpret cryptic messages being written in code by the Spymaster.”

Leliana sighed, coming around. Cullen wasn’t quite there yet. “We still haven’t discussed the magic surrounding these visions.”

“Solas will look into it and besides, he will be coming along. Cassandra too. She will be in good hands.” 

Cullen sighed, losing ground to stand on. “ _ Fine _ .” I felt a surge of indignance at his tone.  _ So glad I have your permission,  _ I thought bitterly to myself.

“Sophia,” said Leliana drawing my attention. “Right now you are an unknown to everyone outside of this room. It provides us with an extraordinary advantage that we should not squander.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow…” I replied.

“What I mean is that you and the Herald,” she said flicking her gaze to him, “should try your best to keep your abilities a secret during your trip.” I nodded in understanding. “You will, however, be traveling with Trevelyan under the cover of our personal representative in order to advise out in the field and will be presented to the world as such.”

“That settles it,” said Josephine clapping her hands together. “It’s time we made it official then.” She brandished her quill with a flourish. “We’ll need to set you up with a uniform,” she paused and looked up. “For official purposes of course,” she reassured, pointing her quill at me. “And also a salary, some lodging--”

“A salary?” I interrupted.

“Of course! Sophie, you’ve already been acting on behalf of the Inquisition as a healer, but if you are to continue in any official capacity as an advisor on this council--”

“Advisor?” I interrupted again, my voice rising in pitch. It was what I was hoping for, but I didn’t think I’d made that much progress with them yet. And to be considered on the same level as the others...

Maxwell chuckled next to me. “Where else would we have you?”

“Your intel could prove valuable. You should be present when we discuss our plans, and if and when you travel abroad with the Herald it will be in an official capacity,” added Leliana with a nod. "Having you named officially as an advisor may alleviate some suspicion.

“And besides, I like you too much to have you anywhere else,” replied Maxwell with a cheeky smirk.

I gave a huff of laughter, but looked away. Maxwell was incredibly likeable. Now I started to sense just how the other advisors ‘came around’ so quickly when it came to trusting him. It was great for me that he decided to trust me and enjoy my company as much as he did, but it could also prove to be a problem. I could see myself easily becoming friends with him, but friends - real friends who truly knew me - were dangerous to my mission.

“I honestly thought I’d just be kept here in the chantry as a secret tool only to be brought out when I could be of use…” I mumbled looking at Leliana and Cullen. Leliana glowered and Cullen looked pained. Good. I half expected Leliana’s cold calculation through all of this, but Cullen’s continued fear of me and apparent lies during our last full conversation hurt me deeply. He couldn’t just say nice things to me and then tip-toe around me and watch me all the time like he was waiting for me to become an abomination.

Maxwell didn’t seem to notice the reactions and continued light-heartedly. “Dear Maker, Sophie, you have a very low opinion of yourself.”

Another thing Josephine had said finally caught up with me. “I’m sorry, did you say lodging?”

Josephine nodded. “We have a cottage right near the Herald’s that should suit your needs.”

“You’re giving me a house?!”

Now it was Josephine’s turn to sigh, but she did it with a smile. She looked at me the way an exasperated parent looks upon their child. “As an advisor to the Inquisition, you cannot stay cloistered in the chantry.”

“I don’t need a whole cottage, surely.”

“It isn’t just about your modesty, Sophia,” murmured Maxwell next to me. “This position provides a certain status and with that you must keep appearances.”

I shook my head. I felt like a fraud and a cheat. I just wanted to go home and survive until I could. I didn’t need to be put up in a house and take their money. “But I didn’t ask for status.”

“Do you want to help me?” asked Maxwell. I nodded. “Do you want to be in this room and abroad to provide guidance as we make decisions?” I nodded.

“Then suck it up,” he said jokingly and clapped me on the back.

I still felt like I was being treated too generously. Maxwell deserved all those things, I didn’t. He was the one with the mark, the one who would suffer its affects and the unwanted attention from the world. “Its too generous. I won’t take more than the other advisors.”

“You aren’t,” replied Josephine looking at me strangely. “We all have the same,” she said waving her quill around the room.

“You do?” I exclaimed surprised. My gaze turned to Cullen as I asked though.

He seemed to catch on to the implication of my gaze. “Maker, where do you think I sleep? In a  _ tent _ ?”

“Well… yes,” I answered pointedly. My cheeks burned in what I knew was a blush. I didn’t know why, but I just assumed that Leliana and Josephine must have both had a room in the chantry and that Cullen slept in one of those tents out in the military camp.

Leliana actually laughed. It was a guarded laugh behind her hand, but it was a soft, tinkling sound that didn't seem to fit the dangerous woman. “I don’t know Cullen. You’re always out there. I can definitely see how she could have that assumption.”


	8. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia meets the Dread Wolf which terrifies her, but he also provides some useful insight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much all conversation.

Later that evening, I was moved into my new cottage near Haven’s gates. It was a small single-room cottage with a tiny vestibule inside the entryway that was just large enough for a shelf on one side and a chair on the other. It reminded me of a cozy mud-room and that was most likely its function in this situation. I looked into the small space ahead that seemed to just barely have enough room for a single bed, a writing desk, and a chest of drawers. There were several shelves along the walls for extra storage. The room was just barely bigger than the one in the chantry, but it was all mine. The fireplace was already crackling when I entered and the warm room stood out in such contrast to the cold air outside that it felt stifling. I turned to the windows and opened the wooden shutters, noticing that there was no glass - the shutters the only barrier to the outside world - but as the cold air rushed in to temper the heat, I didn’t mind at all. My attention was pulled away when the door opened suddenly and I jumped into the middle of the room. A small, lithe woman was carrying a crate full of bottles and herbs - some of my healing supplies I realized. She didn’t look up as she entered. “Hello,” I greeted her gently.

Shock filled her face and she jumped back, nearly dropping the crate, needing to bend slightly to catch it. “I’m sorry, my Lady! I didn’t know you were in yet! My apologies! I’ll… I’ll leave you!” She quickly set the crate down on the chair by the door. She looked around frantically for a minute, tucked her long, brown hair behind her ear - she was an elf - and ran out the door before I could even say ‘wait.’

I sighed and picked up the crate and started arranging my supplies on the shelves above the writing desk. It reminded me of what happened to the Herald when he first wakes up in the game. I thought I would have found it comical, but it actually felt somewhat embarrassing and even a bit isolating. She was terrified of me and I knew it was because of the rumors surrounding me and my recent status-upgrade in the Inquisition. She was afraid of a _figure_ not a person, and it made me feel less human.

I heard a knock at the door and figured it was the woman returning with more of my supplies. I opened it with a gracious smile, trying to appear more disarming, and then it faltered in surprise.

“Herald?” I asked not expecting to see him when I opened the door. 

He put his hands on his hips and looked at me. “If I’m to call you Sophie, then do me the courtesy of using my name too.” He tried to look like he was scolding me, but it was difficult for him to pull off with his sideways smirk. 

“O-of course. I'm sorry, Maxwell.” My gaze flickered beyond his shoulder when I noticed he had another visitor with him - Solas.

He gave a small bow of his head and offered a comely smile. His strong jaw and cleft chin were true to the game, but in person, the sharp edges seemed softer actually. His pale brown eyes conveyed a depth in person that would have never been able to be recreated digitally. They currently conveyed curiosity and boyish interest. He was really disarming standing here in the flesh. Both with his modest and charming demeanor, but also with the knowledge I possessed concerning his true potential for power. 

“Lady Darrow,” he greeted warmly. “It is good to see you well.”

“Oh right,” I shook my head, trying to stop myself from staring. “You were there when I was brought down from the Breach.”

He nodded with the same smile. I could feel myself being pulled in by his charm, feel the desire to be at ease in the presence of his self-assured confidence, but my knowledge also made my skin crawl with gooseflesh. I let the others believe that I had privileged glimpses into the future. What if Solas suspected that I could see into his - or worse his past? Once again, I've realized what a fine mess I’ve made. Standing here gawking at him probably wouldn’t help that suspicion either if he had it. 

“Goodness, Sophie, aren’t you going to invite us in?” asked Maxwell with good-natured exasperation, drawing my attention back to him.

I shook myself inwardly and smiled at them both. “Of course. Please come in.” I stepped to the side and allowed them entry. I smiled at each of them as they passed, but I also carefully scrutinized Solas’s face and demeanor to see if anything changed. So far, he appeared to be calm and inquisitive, looking around my space before settling in on the chair by my small desk. Maxwell leaned back on the desk, putting his weight on his arms as he did in Josephine’s office.

“I just wanted to check in on you and see how you were settling in. Solas here has also been dying for the chance to talk to you since you also popped out of a rift.”

Solas gave a small sideways glance at Maxwell that shared the briefest flicker of exasperation. “I am certain our Herald is overstating it.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and rephrased himself. “Once we heard about and put your abilities to the test, Solas here has been most eager to meet you and speak with you,” he amended, looking amused at the elf.

Of course, he would be. All of this was his doing after all, and he was desperately trying to figure out how this could have all gone so wrong. Perhaps if I was helpful and avoided any ‘vision headaches’ in his presence then I would be safe from his suspicion. “I would be happy to tell you anything I can though I doubt it will be much help.”

“Any information, even the lack thereof reveals a truth,” he offered reassuringly. This statement had the opposite effect on me. Whether he sensed my discomfort or not, I couldn't tell as Solas continued. “It seems both you and the Herald have been blessed with abilities that could very well save us all from the coming crisis.”

His statement sounded a lot like the one he greeted Maxwell with after he stabilized the Breach. Like then, it seemed Solas was fishing to determine what kind of person I was. I remembered that he seemed to appreciate modesty, deference to those more knowledgeable than oneself, and a healthy curiosity. I looked down at my hands. “I am not certain how helpful my unreliable glimpses will be. Maxwell is the one who bears the mark, the one who confronted the Divine’s assassins at the Conclave. I will help as best as I can, but I'm no hero. Not like-”

Maxwell threw up his hands. “Maker, don't call _me_ one! I'm no hero,” he interrupted, exasperated. “I’m just the idiot that stumbled into a mountain full of shit.”

Solas chuckled. “It seems the other advisors would like to stick with the dashing hero sent by Andraste at just the right moment.”

“It makes for a better story,” I offered with a smile.

Solas nodded and smirked at me. “Indeed.”

Maxwell folded his arms. “I’d rather not be the story on everyone’s lips. For every person calling me the Herald of Andraste, there seems to be two more to call me a heretic and a murderer.” Maxwell's demeanor shifted so suddenly that it took me by surprise. He appeared to be deeply concerned over how many saw him.

“People need doubt. Even the most devout,” I offered. “It keeps us grounded, and sometimes it even helps us prepare for when that doubt may in fact be the truth. Right now, the faithful either need you to remedy their doubt in the Maker while others outright doubt _you_ in order for their faith to make any sense.”

Both Maxwell and Solas stared at me for some time. I worried I had said something terribly wrong, but as a lover of history, the story of faith and doubt is woven throughout human history. We fought wars, brokered peace, staunched and stimulated innovation around one or the other. Thedas was like a mirror to my home in many ways. Thedas’ history seems to be steeped in answering the question of what kind of role the Maker truly played in the material plane. Some needed reassurances that the Maker hadn’t turned away from them. For some, the Herald was that answer, much like Andraste was. For others, the Breach’s existence, and Maxwell's and the Inquisition’s for that matter, proved that things were terribly wrong with the world and that the Maker’s indifference was their punishment.

“That…” began Solas, a bit surprised, “is a very astute observation, Lady Darrow.”

“And mildly reassuring,” added Maxwell.

“It was?” I asked hopeful.

“I’ve faced doubt my entire life. Doubt, I think, is something I can fight.”

“Unless, of course, it is not,” countered Solas cryptically.

I nodded to Solas, understanding what he was hinting at. “Be careful with faith and doubt, Maxwell. For some, it's all they have. You have your beliefs and many have their own either very similar to yours or vastly different. Going about thinking your belief is right and others must be corrected is what leads to conflict. Wars are fought over it. Whole civilizations wiped out.” Solas was looking at me with his piercing gaze again. I couldn’t tell if my words resonated with him in a good way or bad way, but I also needed to make sure Maxwell - a character who was a complete wildcard to me since my previous experience with him was carefully curated by my _own_ choices - walked the right path. Otherwise, this whole Inquisition could become much like the religious crusades from my own history - veiled grabs for wealth and power at best, misguided ‘missions from God’ at worst. Those who faked religious conviction to suit their own ends were surely frightening, but those who believed their genocides and wars were somehow ordained by God were the truly dangerous ones.

Maxwell folded his arms, grumbling, “I don’t think _my belief_ is any more right than others. I just believe in myself and those around me to do the right thing.”

“And that is the best you can do, but there will always be those who won’t see it that way. What you do with the doubters will tell the whole world what kind of man you are and what this Inquisition stands for.”

Maxwell silently nodded and looked at the ground for a few moments. He seemed to be thinking about something. Solas was no longer looking at me but had his gaze turned sideways, looking at a space by the wall. Both appearing deep in thought, I waited. I ruefully wondered if this was what everyone saw when I got lost in my own thoughts often. Finally, Maxwell looked back up with a smirk. “I knew I was right about you.”

I sputtered for a second. “Right about _what?_ ”

“In bringing you to the War Council. Your presence has reassured me that I am on the right path and your advice seems to be just what I need.”

I looked down blushing. Solas let out a distracted ‘Hum…’ and I turned to look at him. He seemed to still be thinking deeply, but I wanted to try to get as much on his good side as I could before my mouth messed it up any more, so I tried to steer this visit back on course. “I apologize, Solas,” I said breaking him from his thoughts successfully. “You came to ask me questions and here I am with my poor attempts at philosophy.”

“Not poor at all, Sophia. Indeed, you have given us much to ponder.” I could tell he used the plural ‘us’ as a defense to hide the fact he really meant the singular ‘me’ which set my stomach to performing fearful backflips.

“It must be the company,” I offered with a smile to them both. Maxwell rolled his eyes with a smirk, but Solas smiled earnestly - or at least what appeared earnest. I had to remind myself that this man was a practiced liar.

“You are correct, though. I would like to ask some questions if you would permit me.”

“Of course,” I said sitting down on my bed. Before Solas could speak though, I guessed at his first question. “Unless it's what I remember of the Fade, which is nothing,” I said with a shrug.

Solas actually chuckled soundlessly in response. “That is unfortunate.”

“I’m sorry. I remember seeing this strange crack in the air and then waking up in a lot of pain in the chantry.”

“Why do you describe it as a crack?”

I shrugged again and answered, “It's like the air split open and revealed the Fade beyond it, like it was just under the surface of this world. I could actually _see into_ the crack and see the Fade.”

Solas sat up in his chair. “Do you remember what you saw before you went in?”

I snorted before I realized I had even made the sound. “I’d hardly say I _went in it_. More like pulled through,” I said, clarifying my outburst. Then I thought back for a few moments and tried to picture that day in the caves to explain what I saw. “At first it seemed dark, like I was peering through a long tunnel. At the end of it, I felt like I could see a sky and floating stone, but everything was tinted green.”

“Is that all you saw?” he pressed.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to that day in my mind. Everything still seemed hazy in my mind, including the moments before I was pulled in. “It was only a small crack… There was a green, swirling sky, like angry clouds during a storm. Then there was something moving. It was too large to see it completely through the crack. I remember a lighter color… like a beige,” I continued, remembering more. “Yes, I remember it because it contrasted with the greens.” Suddenly it hit me what I was seeing. I didn’t make the connection because, at the time, I would have never dreamed it was even possible for Thedas or the Fade to exist the way I was experiencing it now. I gasped and opened my eyes, terrified.

Maxwell stood up straight and Solas got up from his chair. “What is it?” asked Maxwell, taking a step forward.

“I remember eyes…” I said with mounting panic, “so many eyes looking right at me. And when I tried to leave, I felt a pull, then there was a loud crackling noise and then nothing…”

It was very silent in the cabin. All except for my thudding heart and heavy breathing. Why hadn’t I remembered that before? Now that I recalled the image, I was terrified. I knew exactly what it was, but there was no way I could explain it even if I wanted to. “How… How did I get out of the Fade?” I whispered.

“If you entered the Fade when I did then you were there two days longer than I was,” he revealed. I looked at him shocked and terrified. “If what you saw was a demon, then you must have been very lucky, or very blessed, to escape,” said Maxwell, equally disturbed.

A thought suddenly occurred to me and I panicked, jumping off the bed. “Oh, God! They said they could sense the Fade’s magic in me! What if something came back with me! What if I’m--” I ran for the door, but Maxwell grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him, clapping his free hand on my other arm.

“Sophie, calm down!” He shook me lightly. “If a demon was possessing you, you would not be the one talking to me now. Your spirit would be trapped in the Fade and the demon would be in control of you.”

Solas who had been quiet spoke up. “I checked you myself. We did not sense any spirits within you. There _are_ some traces of unfamiliar magic within you, but it is most likely caused either by the magic that created the Breach or your physical journey through the Fade.”

I took a deep, calming breath, finding reassurance in Solas' words. I turned to face him. “I need to understand the Fade better, and more about this magic you sensed. How could the magic of the Fade help me see things? What if it's doing more to me than that?” I asked, hoping this would be my chance at finding out more about this magic that seemed to be hitchhiking inside me.

“I wish I had the answers, Lady Darrow, but I can help with what knowledge I do have of the Fade.”

“Maybe you two can help each other out," said Maxwell. "I have some arrangements to make with Varric and Cassandra, so if you don’t mind, I will leave you two to discuss it. We’ll rest and then leave again in four days at daybreak.”

I actually did mind. While I valued his knowledge of the Fade and his potential in helping me get back home, the thought of being alone with Solas without Maxwell as a buffer was terrifying. Solas understood how irreplaceable Maxwell was at the moment, so he wouldn’t do anything to condemn his own future, but if he sensed that I could, in fact, jeopardize his mission, I doubt he’d see me as indispensable.

Maxwell gave me a reassuring pat and before he left, he said, “And no more of this possession nonsense. If you say that in front of the wrong people… I don’t want to think what would happen.” 

The wrong people being Cullen, I thought, glowering. Instinctively, I think I was actually going to run to _him_ for help. He said he was afraid _for_ me and seemed to want to help, but if he thought I was possessed, would I be beyond help in his eyes? For the moment, I was exceedingly grateful for Maxwell’s calm and discretion.

Solas sat down in the chair again as Maxwell left. “The Herald was right. You would not be conscious of the waking world and _not_ aware of a spirit possessing you. All magic comes from the Fade and that means spirits are drawn to that magic. It is… familiar to them. The magic within you feels like the Fade, but it doesn’t feel like the magic that is normally found within mages.”

Solas was launching into one of his lessons about the Fade. It oddly enough made me feel slightly more at ease. It felt familiar. I sat back on the bed and carefully listened.

“It stands to reason that you may still be at risk of possession, but those without magic do not dream as consciously as mages do making it much more difficult to possess someone who is not a mage. It is easier to possess non-mages in the waking world by those already harboring spirits within them.” Solas cocked his head to the side and looked at me as if a thought just occurred to him. “What have your dreams been like since you awoke from the Fade?”

I battled with how honest I should be with him. In one respect, I didn’t want him to see me as a threat and I wasn’t even sure what would push him to that conclusion, but he was also the best source of knowledge on the Fade and could perhaps even help me get home. In another respect, I didn’t want people here to assume I was an apostate in hiding. I quickly settled on a 'vanilla' version of the truth about my dreams - leaving out the twisted aspects caused by demons. “I dream about those I’ve left behind or lost - sometimes they are happy, sometimes they… well, sometimes they are not. I also dream about Haven and being here, usually some sort of medical emergency that I'm ill-equipped to handle or Haven being overrun.”

He nodded solemnly while I spoke. “You have faced trauma, and it is not unusual to experience haunting dreams afterward. When you dream of these things, how much do you remember?”

This is where I hesitated in telling him the whole truth. I knew mages were more aware of their dreams than non-mages, but most people back home dream like mages do. I wasn’t a mage and I didn’t want people to begin assuming I was. “I don’t remember much, just that it was about those things and that sometimes when I wake up, I’m scared or sad. I remember the ones about Jack better though.” I have no idea why I said that last part. Dreams of him have been haunting me every so often since I got here and they’ve been progressively getting worse.

“Jack?”

“The man I was going to marry.”

“I see. May I ask what you remember?” He was being gentle. His voice was soft and tentative, letting me know that I could say no if I wanted.

“Sometimes I see him calling out for me in the middle of a heavy snowfall. I can barely hear him and all I see is a dark figure through the thick snow, but I know it's him. I call out for him and he can’t hear me. I run for him but I never seem to get closer. I can never reach him. Sometimes I _do_ reach him and he begs me to come home. I tell him I can’t and then he’s gone and I’m alone again.” I hesitate, trying to decide if I wanted to tell him about the one I had a few nights ago. I still couldn’t tell if it was a product of my overactive imagination playing out my own stories that I’ve told over and over again or if I was being punished with my own lies by spirits or demons in the Fade.

I decided to tell him. I needed to tell him - I need to tell someone. Its been plaguing my thoughts ever since I had it. “A few nights ago, I dreamt about the night we were separated. Except it's different than what really happened. We were separated when templars attacked us looking for an apostate. They beat him and I tried to get them to stop, but when they came for me I ran. But in my dream, they were holding me down the entire time and making me watch as a templar's boot kept stomping on his head...” While in my heart I knew that Jack was still alive, being forced to watch him die in my dreams was haunting and it was very difficult to hold back the tears as I explained it to him. I knew I was risking a lot telling him these very specific details, but I needed to tell someone and who better than someone who had a deeper understanding of the meaning of dreams and the Fade? Or perhaps he could be the last person I should tell… but in this moment, I was deciding to trust my gut, and it was telling me that he was the only person who could actually help me as long as I didn’t threaten him.

Solas closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath, his nostrils flaring. “I am sorry, Sophia. Those men have much to answer for. But I need you to promise me that if you ever vividly dream like that again, especially if Jack or someone else tries to ask you for help or make a deal with you, to let me know. Promise me that you’ll come to me about your dreams and any other questions about the Fade, and as long as it poses no one else any harm, we will keep it between us.” 

I sat in momentary shock. He was offering to keep my secrets. I nodded my head. “I will. Thank you, Solas.” The door was open and I could decide later if I should reveal more of the truth. Part of me worried if I was being naive - potentially setting myself up for possession and putting everyone else at risk, but from what I’ve experienced in my dreams so far, they were terrifying for sure, but it wasn’t that difficult to realize what was happening and stop it. I’d often had odd dreams when I could realize that I was dreaming and change things. Since childhood, the most recurrent dream was about being chased by something that wanted to hurt me, and I was stuck running in slow motion. Suddenly I’d realize I was dreaming and that the slow movements didn’t have to hinder me if I could control it. I’d then leap in slow motion but will myself to remain in the air, and suddenly I was flying. Lucid dreaming wasn’t new to me, nor for many others back home, and perhaps because I was not native to Thedas, I was at an even greater advantage than the rest of them. 

“You are most welcome. If you ever have questions about dreaming or the Fade, I will answer the best that I can.” He certainly would. It was amazing how someone seemingly so forthcoming with information could hide so much. I suppose I was the same. We were both people hiding our true identities, knowing a great deal of what was truly happening than all the others, and having to carefully reveal that information in order to guide everyone to a favorable outcome. We both just wanted to go home. In a way that made me feel some sympathy for him, but then my mind snapped back to the potential genocide he would try to commit to achieve it. Me, I just wanted to tell a few lies to make sure I could be at a battle that was already going to happen just to go home. Solas planned to unmake the world. Part of me still refused to believe - after everything he would learn and go through especially if he forms a friendship with the Inquisitor - that he’d actually go through with it, but I knew that I didn’t want to be around when all of it hit the fan anyway.

“Aside from the visions, have you felt any different since the Fade?” he asked, changing his line of questioning.

I thought for a moment then shook my head. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I cannot truly say how this magic is affecting you, but these visions seem to be the best indicator thus far. We can hope it will be the only effect. What kinds of things do you see? Can you call them up or do they just happen?”

I shook my head in response to his last question. “No, they just happen. I am not sure what causes them. Maxwell thinks that I experience a vision when some external stimulus prompts it. That's why he wants me to travel with him.” As for the first question, this was the one I knew was coming and the one I still hadn’t thought of an appropriate answer to give the Dread Wolf. I fumbled for a good response. If I made sure all my visions focused on Maxwell only, perhaps that would make sense to him since Maxwell and I were both physically in the Fade. It would also hopefully keep Solas from worrying over what I might see about _him_ personally.

“Everything seems to be about Maxwell directly, but I have yet to see anything of his past though; it has been more of his future or his present.”

He looked me in the eye. “You have not seen anything about anyone else? Without the Herald?”

“No,” I lied, omitting the day I confronted Leliana. And truth be told, I would probably make use of it again, but hopefully in private and in a way that would be easy to explain and not betray the trust I was hopefully gaining.

“Did you see anything about me when we first met?” he finally asked.

I shook my head and hoped it looked casual. “I don’t know how any of this works.” I knew this only stalled the inevitable. This wouldn’t be enough to keep Solas from worrying about what I may potentially see in the future, but I hoped that my usefulness would outweigh that fear. The fact that he remained in Haven at the beginning of all this when it was dangerous for him to do so showed me that he could be pragmatic about ignoring his own fear when trying to pursue the greater good.

“What is it like when you experience them?” he continued.

“My head begins to ache before they come and then I no longer perceive what's around me; instead I see and hear something else.”

“I see. And you are sure you are awake when this is happening?”

I nodded. “I scared a sister half to death the first time it happened. It caught us both by surprise. Now I can feel it coming and can brace myself. It doesn’t seem to hurt as much as the first time.”

“It is not unheard of to experience the past through the Fade. I myself do this quite often, but I always have to enter the Fade while dreaming to do it. To experience it while awake… is truly something else,” he said, almost in awe. “And to be able to see the present and the future,” he trailed off leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. He leaned forward again and spoke with purpose. “You see, when I experience the past I only get subjective glimpses of the experiences that others have lived. When they then dream, they leave an imprint on the Fade that I can later experience. If these visions are from the Fade and you experience them while awake,” he continued, getting up from his chair and beginning to pace in front of me. “The question is from whose perspective do you experience it? Is it even still the same as dreaming, or is it something else entirely? Has your journey through the Fade left its mark on you so strongly that you can experience aspects of it within yourself without having to visit it?”

With all of his pacing and questioning, this felt like it was becoming a difficult story to sell especially to one so well acquainted with the Fade. I should have thought of that too before I launched into this stupid idea… But when I started it, I hadn’t even imagined that everyone would connect my visions to the Fade. I needed to come up with something plausible so Solas wouldn’t keep trying to study it, study me. Then I thought of Alexius and his time magic. It only became possible thanks to the Breach, but with the possibilities of traveling forwards and backward in time, it could stand to reason that the Fade could also reflect the future as well as the past in its current, broken state. “Could the Breach be affecting the Fade?”

He stopped pacing and looked up at me. “Ah, yes… Certainly it does. It is not exactly like a rip. A rip implies an injury to only one place, but the Breach is like a stone being tossed into a pond in an endless loop and the ripples keep moving and spreading. The first moment the Breach appeared it sent shockwaves through the waking world and the Fade. Those ripples affected the Veil and rifts opened all over Thedas. You know that as you encountered one yourself. Perhaps those ripples in the Fade are more literal than we thought. Much as a still pond reflects upon its surface, the Fade reflects the waking world. Time is, in fact, immaterial in the Fade; spirits cannot even comprehend the concept of time. Perhaps the reflection is not lost when disturbed, but maintains itself even as the ripples bend and fold it, allowing us a glimpse into broken reflections of broken time.” Solas suddenly stepped forward, more animated. “Yes, the Breach could be the key to everything. It could be what keeps you connected to the Fade to allow you to experience your visions while awake, and it could also be what keeps you connected to the Herald and his mark. The broken state of the Veil, bending and twisting on itself, folding its reflections back in on itself, could account for seeing it in different time." He paused and nodded resolutely. "I think I shall study the Breach further and determine its effects on the Veil.”

I inwardly sighed in relief. Even after all of this, he still would focus his efforts on the veil much like he had in the game. Perhaps that meant that fate played a much stronger role in all of this than I understood. Perhaps I wouldn’t ruin the outcome or even change anything at all for that matter. Even in the games, you could make many different choices, even be a different person and for the most part, the end would always play out similarly. Sure with different variations and ripple effects in the world afterward, but the final act always played out just the same.

Solas bowed gracefully to me. “Thank you, Lady Darrow, for a most enlightening conversation.”

I stared at him amused and bewildered. “Well I'm glad _someone_ is enlightened.” Then a thought occurred to me. I kept correcting everyone else as I did not want them to assume I was one of _those_ Darrows, but with Solas, I felt the need even more strongly to separate myself from the standard human society of Thedas. After all, we _were_ both outsiders waking up in a world gone mad and I felt a strong desire for him to not see me as one of their number. “And please, call me Sophia - or even Sophie - if it pleases you. I have no titles and deserve no honorifics.”

He chuckled and made for the door. “As I heard from the Herald, that may not entirely be true any longer, but as you wish, Sophia. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Solas.”

He nodded in response and kept walking, but as he reached the threshold, he stopped as if something just occurred to him and he turned his head to look at me, his body still facing the door. “Earlier, when you were afraid, you called out to a god. May I ask which you meant?” He turned to face me. At the look on my face, he added, “I apologize if I am intruding. It just struck me as odd as those who usually call to the Maker call him by name and not title.”

 _Holy-ever-loving-shit_ , I thought to myself in a horrified panic. I hadn’t even noticed I had done that. I needed to pay more attention to those small details or others would begin to question me too. Out of everyone I could have slipped in front of in the Inquisition, there were two who I feared the most. Solas was definitely one of them. When I said it, I wasn’t even crying out to God anyway. Not in the way the phrase was originally intended. Back home, it’s meaning got replaced over time from supplication to a higher power and just became another expression to show emotion. Perhaps I could still use that? It was too late for any other story since my hesitation and clear panic gave me away and showed him that he found out something I didn’t want to share. Perhaps I could use it to connect with Solas instead.

“Can this be one of our secrets?” I whispered.

Solas cocked his head to the side, clearly intrigued and stepped further into the room. “Certainly.”

“I don’t really… prescribe to any faith,” I explained slowly. In reality, I grew up religious, and today I still believe in a higher power even if I’ve lost my faith in the institution of the church. “For me the terms that I’ve heard many use, ‘Oh, Maker’ or even cries to Elvhen gods all really mean the same thing. When we feel helpless or overcome by an emotion we struggle to express we cry out to something larger. I suppose I picked up that habit as well, though I don’t really supplicate myself to any specific god.” That was a terrible explanation, but hopefully, one that would resonate with Solas. I just had to make sure I didn’t mess up like that again. I knew that Varric was much like me when it came to believing in something higher but struggling with believing in the institutions that supposedly serve it, however, others might not appreciate my blasphemy. Hopefully, Maxwell didn’t notice my slip up earlier as he seemed to be of the Chantry faithful.

Solas stared at me for a few moments before finally speaking. “You certainly are quite the puzzle…”

I panicked. “Sorry?” I asked, hoping to sound offended rather than terrified.

“From what the Herald has told me, you are a woman who might have ties to a minor noble house that you absolutely refuse to claim; you have no formal education - and apparently cannot even read or write - and yet you have a deeper grasp of the healing arts than most trained Chantry Sisters and apparently posses an understanding of the world that usually comes from years of study from tomes of philosophy and history; you physically entered the Fade without the mark, but have come back with a piece of it that allows you to see things that no other person could possibly see or even know.”

I paled. Shit... _Fuck_. Standing there in front of him, I knew he was calling out my lies in his subtle, nuanced way. He was such a better liar than I was, and as my mother always said, ‘You can’t bullshit a bullshiter.’

The only option I could think of at this point was to get him to back down by making his question his own conclusions. I gaped at him and tried to muster as much outrage as I could before I responded. “Just because I can’t read doesn’t mean that I have no eyes…” I said slowly, letting the anger build from my panic.

Solas twitched his head to the side and took a step back. He seemed to sense my anger which was good. “I am afraid I have missed your meaning.”

“I have eyes, Solas. I can see just fine with them. I know how the world works because I _watch_ . I never learned to read because I lived alone with my mother until I lost her to the Blight when I was young, but I know a lot about how the world works because I’ve traveled; I observe and I listen. That is also why I know more than the Chantry sisters when it comes to medicine. They base their practice on centuries of ritual and tradition. I _learn_ and _adapt_. I don’t need a formal education to use my mind.” As I kept going, my rage at his arrogance actually became real. He looked at Theodosians as children, groping in the dark for answers after the veil came down. He saw them as incapable of mastering magic, philosophy, or anything closely related to what I would term science. But I came from a world without the Fade and without magic and we achieved so much in spite of our shortcomings because as we stumbled and fell and even repeated some of the same mistakes as our ancestors, we strove to be better, to become something more than what was capable in the past. Solas saw the world as broken and worse than what came before. But I _knew_ that the Evanuris were no different than the leaders of my own history. They preyed upon the weak and used religion and politics to serve their own ends. What was even more frustrating was that Solas knew this as well, but here he was, pining for a more ‘civilized’ time.

He took another step back and lowered his head, but kept his gaze on me. “I have offended.”

“While I appreciate your help with figuring out what this weird magic is doing to me, I do not need you to treat the rest of me as a puzzle that needs to be figured out. I’m a person and even if I am a little different, that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like some wayward child.”

“Ah,” he said in a clipped tone. Then he put his hands up and took a breath before continuing in a softer voice, “I believe I misspoke and my intentions were miscommunicated. I apologize. I do not look down on you as a child, Sophia. In fact, I see you as quite the opposite. Your mind works in ways that I have not seen in a long time, and I find it… well, refreshing.”

“I…” I stopped. He actually apologized in his own crafty way with carefully chosen words that reduced blame on himself but avoiding shifting any onto me and then ending with a compliment. There really was no way to respond to that except with a “Thank you.” He completely disarmed my anger in a single statement.

Well played, Dread Wolf.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I should leave you to your work.” And then he quickly left much to my relief.

I let out a big breath. I had no idea how I got through that unscathed, and I still wasn’t entirely certain I did. He seemed to see right through me and he had a chance to call me on it, to press me, but when I pushed back he seemed to back off. 

Right now, though, I needed to focus on unpacking. I’d be leaving for Val Royeaux soon and I didn’t want to leave my cabin a mess.

It was difficult trying to put everything away. My mind kept drifting back to my conversation with Solas. Did he actually believe me? Or more likely, he didn’t and apologized just so he could see how things would play out. Or could he actually be afraid of me? He pushed to see what would happen and then decided to withdraw. What was he waiting for then? One thing I knew for certain. Solas was too smart to believe my lies for long, and by then, I needed to be an ally or at least someone formidable enough that he would need to handle carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have any finals to give today, but I still had to come into work, so... happy early post!
> 
> I am also considering posting a chapter mid-week next week since the next few chapters are already written. What do you think?


	9. Making Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the downtime before the visit to Val Royeaux, Sophia continues training, but also gets to know some of her new acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some elements of in game conversation in this chapter, but I only kept elements since Sophia is taking part.

I found myself out in the field after a battle, treating soldiers. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was, but the area was heavily wooded. The soldiers I came across were all suffering from extreme blunt force trauma, like something very large or very strong had struck them. It was nearly impossible to treat. I was all by myself with no other healers or spirit healers around. The men were dying, moaning and crying for help that I couldn’t offer. I whirled around the battlefield, dozens of men lay around me, broken and dying, and I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know why I did, but I ran. I ran through the trees, letting them lash out at my clothes and face, but I couldn’t stand to be there any longer.

Then I entered a clearing bathed in an ethereal light. The sun shone through the leaves with such golden brightness, I had to shield my eyes. As I walked closer I noticed figures in the middle of the clearing. They looked like statues. When my eyes adjusted I realized that they  _ were _ statues. The first one I passed was a stout-looking dwarf. As I got closer, I noticed it was holding a very ornate and complicated weapon - a crossbow. It was a statue depicting Varric in the heat of battle, an angry and imposing look on his face. I turned to the other statues and could already guess that the figure holding up a shield as if to block an incoming blow must have been Cassandra and the other holding two daggers had to be Maxwell.

I moved up to inspect Maxwell’s statue further and realized, that unlike the others, Maxwell wasn’t in a heroic stance. His daggers hung limply in his hands by his sides, looking as if they’d fall from his palms any moment. His face looked off into a space in front of him with a deeply saddened expression.

Suddenly I felt a prickling across my skin and the urgent need to follow his gloomy gaze. 

I turned slowly. There at the edge of the clearing stood Solas. 

But it wasn’t Solas. 

With a flash of blazing, knowing eyes staring me down, I realized this was Fen’Harel at full power.

I turned to face him fully. “Why?” I whispered.

Solas’ face looked sad but determined. “Because they would have stopped me…”

“But  _ how _ ? You’re still too weak!”

He took a determined step closer. “How would  _ you  _ know that?” He took another step, and another. Slowly, purposefully. Like a predator stalking its prey. “Hmm? What secrets do you harbor behind those eyes that see and  _ know _ too much?”

I took a step back for every step he took forward. I backed up into something hard and spun. I was now face to face with myself. My stony expression conveying shock and terror. Fear ran through me like ice, crippling my limbs and I couldn’t move. Behind me a heavy hand clamped down on the back of my neck, forcing me to turn around. “Who are you?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with white flame and my limbs began to stiffen and change. In a slow crawl, I was turning to stone.

“You _can’t_ be real!” I cried, and then thought with an even deeper terror, _what if he was_? Realizing I was in a dream didn’t bring me comfort but complete and utter horror. Could this be the real Solas, invading my dreams to threaten me and discover my purpose? I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the presence in front of me. I had been able to discern the presence of the demons that invaded my other nightmares before and focusing on that invading force allowed me to fight back. If he truly was invading my dreams, I held onto the hope that at least I could fight back.

However, my eyes shot open when I realized that I was alone. There was no other presence. I looked down and the petrification creeping up my limbs had stopped. I looked back to the image of Fen’Harel and it’s expression was blank. I looked around the clearing and the trees were wavering suddenly, as if they were only made of mist.

I wasn’t sure what to do. There was no other presence to confront or fight. Was this all my own doing? Were my dreams manifesting my own fears? I focused harder, closing my eyes and reaching out with my mind as far as I could, but I felt no other presence. I was completely alone.

When I opened them again, I realized the clearing had fallen away into a dark and shapeless mist. Had I done that too? Back home, I was able to dream lucidly and once I realized I was in the dream, I could alter the effects  _ within _ the dream but not wipe it away completely. I’d never been this lucid before. I wondered what else I could do.

I focused on the space in front of me, imagining a place that brought me peace. In front of me, the mist formed into an old leather armchair. It was brown but the seat had faded to a tan with too much use. I walked up to it and brushed a hand across the arm. The familiar feeling of smooth leather skimmed across my palm. Tentatively, I sat down and the seat sank beneath my weight.

I closed my eyes and remembered this armchair in the front room of my parents house. They called it my ‘Thinking Chair’ after one of those silly shows I used to watch as a kid. But it really was. Their six by six foot front room was bare except for this old chair that sat in the middle of the room facing a window. In the morning the sunlight would bathe across the chair making it feel warm and safe.

I opened my eyes and with a gasp, I was looking out into the summer sunrise dawning over my parents’ street. Outside, the ten-year old version of my childhood friend was chasing the poor neighborhood boy down the street.

I pulled my feet up, folding my legs beneath me, and sat in comfortable awe as I watched the summer sun rise. I had never been able to affect my dreams in this way back home. Sure, I could always ‘bend’ the rules once I realized I was dreaming, but this was different. Was this because of the Fade? Did this world, with its link to the Fade, allow me to  _ create _ dreams instead of merely manipulate them?

I continued to sit, basking in the comfort of the sun and allowed my mind to drift through peaceful memories of home.

* * *

When I woke that morning, I was surprisingly exhausted. Having left my shutters open, I noticed the sun was beginning to rise as gray light spread across the village. I should have gotten enough sleep, so why was I still so tired?

I rolled over in my bed and groaned. I must have tossed and turned through the night because the material within the flimsy mattress had shifted to the sides, leaving me laying across the wooden slats of the bed. The bed itself was of a good, sturdy construction, but the mattress left much to be desired. The bed in the chantry felt better than this, but that was because the bed wasn’t exactly a bed and more of a cot - wooden poles, spreading the canvas taut, upon which linens and furs were draped. This was an actual  _ bed _ . I was disappointed that it felt so stiff and uncomfortable.

I got up and stared balefully at my bed, suddenly grumpy. This couldn’t  _ actually _ be what sleeping in a bed felt like right? Looking at it, I realized that it was really only a couple furs covering the wooden frame and a tiny mattress - too small for the size of the bed - on top of the furs.

A soft knock at the door drew my attention. I scrunched my brow, wondering who would visit so early in the morning. I cracked the door and then opened it more fully. It was the elf woman from last night who had left abruptly.

“Good morning, milady. I was asked to see if there was anything I could do to help you this morning,” she said with a bow, keeping her head low.

“By who?” I asked, confused.

“By the Lady Ambassador. She tasked me with seeing to your needs.”

“ _ Why _ ?” I asked, still confused.

The woman looked up for a moment, but kept her eyes from looking into mine. She looked like she was floundering, trying to come up with an answer. “I’m sorry. Come in, please,” I said opening the door and letting her in.

She walked in with her head down and looked around the room. Her eyes settled on the fireplace which had all but burned itself out. “Let me get your fire going,” she said, rushing back outside to the wood pile.

I stood a little bewildered and somewhat frustrated. Did Josephine give me a  _ servant _ ? Or was this woman just another pair of eyes to keep tabs on me?

The woman returned, her arms full of blocks of wood, and began the process of bringing the fire back to life. As the fire built in strength, a warmth settled across the room that I hadn’t even noticed I was missing. It felt so nice though now that I realized how chilly the early morning felt coming in through the open windows. “Thank you,” I said softly, standing around awkwardly, not sure what to do or say.

When she finished she stood and turned to face me, but didn’t say anything or move to do anything else. She kept her eyes down and I just stood there, staring at her awkwardly. Finally her eyes slowly looked up to me. I just gaped at her, unsure what to do or say. Why was she just staring at me like that?

“What else would you like me to do, milady?”

Oh! She was waiting for me to give her a task. A salary I could understand. A cabin was beginning to make some sense, but a  _ servant _ ? Surely that was going too far. I’d have to talk to Josephine… “Oh… umm… I think I can handle everything myself.” When she didn’t make any move, I added, “Thanks.”

Then her expression shifted and she actually looked  _ hurt _ . “Have I displeased you, milady?”

“ _ What _ ?!” I sputtered, not understanding. “No!  _ No _ !” I sat down and put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. I have no idea what I’m doing,” I groaned.

The woman took a timid step forward, but then seemed to think better of it and took a step back. “I can…” she ventured and waited to see if I would interrupt or stop her. “I can help you with anything you wish, milady.”

I looked up at her over my hands still on my face. “You can stop calling me ‘milady’ to start,” I said, trying to sound gentle.

She looked very confused. “Milady?” she asked. She repeated the honorific again, but I knew it was a question, asking  _ why _ and not a challenge.

I shook my head. “I am not high born.”

Her face continued to show confusion. “But you’re a representative of the Inquisition, aren’t you?” I nodded. She nodded her head resolutely. “Then I will call you ‘milady,’” she concluded. She recoiled when I grimaced at her. “Ha-have I offended you, milady?”

“What is your name?” I asked, trying a different tactic.

She looked down, scared. She probably thought I meant to get her into trouble… “Laya, milady…”

“Laya,” I said gently, but firmly. “My name is Sophia.” I stood up and held out my hand to her. “It is nice to meet you.” She looked down at my hand in horror. “You shake it,” I whispered, trying to make my tone humorous.

She seemed flustered for a moment. “I w-wouldn’t dare to overreach, milady…”

I sighed. I was beginning to hate Thedas and being put in this situation. “Laya…” I said gently. She kept her head down, avoiding my gaze. “Laya,” I tried more firmly. “Look at me.” She flinched, but slowly, hesitatingly, she complied. “I don’t keep servants,” I explained, trying to keep my voice soft. Her expression twisted into one of fear and hurt again, so I continued quickly. “So… If you are to continue  _ helping _ me,” I said, dipping my knees to keep her gaze as she tried to look down again. “Then you will need to start calling me Sophia.”

Her eyes lifted to mine again, unsure. “Alright, milady-- _Sorry_!”

I chuckled. “Its alright. Just try it.”

“Alright, So... Sophia?” she finally said, her body flinching. Even her  _ voice _ seemed to flinch, turning it into a question.

I smiled warmly at her. “Good. Keep practicing,” I said with a wink.

She looked down at her feet a moment, seeming to think deeply, before she looked back, her slumped shoulders rolling back and standing a little taller. The small boost didn’t reach her voice yet though as she stammered, “How… how can I…  _ help _ you, S-Sophia?”

“Um… I don’t actually know. What would you normally do?”

She seemed a little more confident now. “I can keep your room tidy, bring you meals, tend to the fire, send out your clothes for washing, empty your chamberpot, help you dress or prepare your clothes for the day, draw you a bath-- Milady?” she stopped her list at my changing expression and asked, distracted. She suddenly realized herself and shook her head. “Sorry! Sophia? Is something the matter?”

“You can do that?” I whispered.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“A bath?” I clarified, hopeful.

“Of course. I can bring down a tub from the chantry then fetch and heat your water. Is that what you wish?”

I groaned in answer, anticipating the satisfaction while grabbing my greasy hair. I was somewhat jealous that most people here didn’t look as oily and grimy as I did, but they didn’t live most of their lives bathing nearly every day. I’d pretty much just been wiping down with a washcloth in the morning, but the thought of a real bath… I looked at her and noticed she looked back at me somewhat bewildered, but also slightly amused. I smiled at her. “I  _ so _ wish…”

She nodded. “Then I will see it done. It will take some time to prepare, but I can have it ready for you this evening if you wish?”

“Laya, you’re amazing…”

She got visibly flustered at my praise. “Oh, I wouldn’t… No, milad… I mean…” She took a breath and let it out hastily in a heavy sigh. “Is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime?”

“No, thank you, Laya. I will get myself ready.”

She nodded quickly. “Then I will return later this morning and see to your room.” She looked back at me. “If that is alright?”

“Sure, if it isn’t too much trouble,” I said. She looked like she didn’t know how to respond again. I didn’t want to block her from my room and try to be  _ too _ private in case Leliana found it suspicious, and if this was how she decided to serve the Inquisition, I would try to not make it harder on her, but I refused to needlessly use her and take advantage of her. I made a mental note to check with Josephine to make sure that she actually  _ chose  _ to be here and that she was being paid. I’ll be damned before I ever keep a slave.

* * *

In the days before I joined Maxwell on his trip, I continued with my routine of serving the Inquisition as a healer in the mornings and my reading lessons with Josephine. I was beginning to recognize certain phrases in common without needing to reference the alphabet. Writing was a whole other matter. My runes looked like a child’s scribble compared to her elegant strokes. 

I also continued training with Lysette in the afternoons, but she tested me less often on observation. I’m pretty sure it was because of the awkward encounter with Cullen in the village, but I’d also hoped it was because she was getting confident in my ability. If not for those reasons then perhaps she was a little worried for my mental well-being as I spent  _ days _ on constant alert. We instead continued running to help me build stamina. It was terrible, but Lysette kept promising that it would get easier soon. I did however enjoy how the running gave me time to spend in my own thoughts. If it truly did get easier, I even flattered myself with the thought that I could actually enjoy running on my own. Well, not necessarily  _ alone _ since I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without an escort.

When the Herald arrived, he also brought Mother Giselle with him. Even with her reputation among the Chantry as rebellious, her presence seemed to calm many fears and anxieties for the people in the village. For some, she symbolized sanction from the Maker - despite what the Chancellor said - and for others she was a symbol of sanity.

I liked Mother Giselle. I met her the day after the Herald had arrived when I was helping in the infirmary. She came in following behind a recruit who had received a deep gash on his arm from an accident in a training exercise. She had followed to help, but Sister Beatris - like the proud mother hen she was fast becoming - asked her to watch me suture the wound. They were using a form of catgut suture - made from the intestines of sheep - but they hadn’t been sterilizing it until I showed them that they should keep it stored in a jar of pure alcohol which they also were not producing or procuring until I was adamant about it a week or so ago. They watched on in fascination as I quickly did a continuous stitch to seal the wound before bandaging it with clean linen. I had been doing more and more sutures lately; since I was able to do so cleanly, Cullen seemed to be more comfortable with it than turning to mages whenever someone hurt themselves. So for the past week, whenever someone had an injury or laceration that was not severe or life-threatening, they were sent to me.

I had a pleasant conversation with the Mother afterwards and we discussed healing practices and methods I had devised to improve upon their own. She seemed genuinely interested in learning from my methods and asked Beatris to oversee additional training for the sisters in those new practices. The relief on Beatris’ face told me that she had been hoping for this reaction. The Chantry was still deeply mired in tradition and changing their methods could be seen by some as heretical, but now with a Revered Mother ordering the training, it would be seen as sanctioned by the Chantry itself. I could begin to understand why she would be seen as rebellious by other Revered Mothers. Not just for her willingness to work with mages, but also her willingness to learn, adapt, and be progressive. So, yes, I liked Mother Giselle. Thedas needed more people like her.

I also had some run-ins with Maxwell’s companions before we left for our trip. The evening after I spoke with Laya, I was heading to the tavern drenched in sweat. The plan was to bathe first, but I was so incredibly hungry since I skipped lunch with Josephine to handle another accident. This one was more serious as several men were working on the siege equipment next to the village. While trying to lift some of the pieces, the rope snapped and a large piece fell on two of them. The sisters and I worked with Aiden the spirit healer to reset and mend bones, reduce a dislocated kneecap, and make sure there were no serious crush injuries. By the time we had finished, it was time for Lysette to work on training the recruits, so we stopped by the tavern to share a large roll before heading to the military camp.

Pretty certain that I smelled quite ripe by this point, I sat in a back corner with my stew, trying not to bother the others.

“Hey there, Lucky,” said a voice next to me. It sounded familiar, but as it was not addressing me, I was focused on finishing my dinner quickly. “It’s Lady Darrow, right?” said the voice again.

"Huh?" Being addressed now, I looked up questioningly. Varric stood by the door a couple feet away looking at me. “Oh… yeah,” I confirmed realizing he was talking to me. “You can call me Sophia.”

He walked up to my table and climbed into the seat across from me. “I think I like Lucky,” he mused, watching me. “We haven’t actually met yet. I’m Varric Tethras.”

“Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” I finished from his introduction to the Herald with a smirk.

Varric lifted an eyebrow before shaking his head in a chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

Then it clicked. He was calling  _ me _ Lucky. Well… it was certainly better than what Maxwell had implied he was calling me earlier. But still… “So why Lucky?”

He shrugged with a humorous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Something about a woman physically wandering the Fade for days only to pop out into the hands of the very people who she’s meant to help,” he said, purposely skirting around the specific details regarding the kind of “help” I was providing because Maxwell probably explained to him the need for discretion.

But even with his explanation, the name definitely did not fit. “Uh huh,” I said slowly. “Sure. Lucky. Even though I almost died in there. Oh and not to mention the terrible  _ headaches _ I’ve been getting lately,” I added with a knowing look.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. Perhaps not lucky for  _ you _ , but you can’t deny it hasn’t been timely for us.”

I glowered at him. “By that logic you should just call me rabbits foot then…”

“Why would I call you  _ that _ ?” he asked somewhat horrified.

I realized I must have made another reference to something not familiar in Thedas. I sighed and started to explain. “Where I’m from, people thought carrying around the foot of a rabbit brought good luck.”

His expression did not change. “Why would people think  _ that _ ? Damn, I’ve never heard of that before and I’m a writer… That sounds morbid.”

I shrugged trying to hide my frustration with myself and mumbled, “I don’t know… it’s stupid.”

“Anyway, I kind of like Lucky. I think I’ll stick with it. See if anything better comes along.” I rolled my eyes. “Careful. If the Seeker is anything to go by, you keep up that dour expression, it could very well get stuck.” I snorted a quick chuckle but rolled my eyes again. “Have you met her yet?” he asked.

“Briefly, last night at council.”

He leaned in. “Did she try to ‘interrogate’ you?” he asked using finger quotes.

“No, actually. She was nice.”

“ _ Nice _ ? Are you sure you met the Seeker?”

I chuckled. “Yes, Varric. I’m sure,” I said tapping a finger next to my eye, implying the visions.

“Right…” He leaned back in his chair. “Better than the Herald and I got…”

“I’m sure she regrets it and is coming to trust you,” I said, trying to reassure him. If the look he gave me was anything to go by, he didn’t believe me.

“The Herald, sure. Me? She barely tolerates me. Which is why I’m staying. Just to spite her,” he said smugly, taking a drink from his wooden mug.

I leveled a knowing look at him. “That’s not why you stayed.”

He glared at me over his mug. “You  _ see _ that, huh?”

I shook my head. “With everything going on, I find it hard to believe your actual reason for staying is spite.”

He chuckled and took another drink. “Hey, dwarves can be quite spiteful.”

“I think you care.”

He looked shocked, but I could tell he was playing with me. “What?  _ Me _ ?”

“If not for the good of the world, then at least for a chance at a good story,” I joked.

“Oh, and it’s a good one,” he said laughing.

I nodded, smiling. But I knew that wasn’t it either and returned to my real argument. “Maxwell said you told him you thought he should run at the first chance.”

He snorted a quick laugh. “Well yeah! Being a hero sucks. You either die the hero or live long enough for people to barely tolerate you or worse see you as a villain.”

I thought about the Exalted Council and how Orlais seemed to barely tolerate the Inquisition while Arl Teagan was certainly ready to vilify the Inquisitor. I thought of other heroes, but the Warden disappeared and so did Hawke. “But your  _ Tale of the Champion _ has certainly immortalized your friend Hawke as a hero, hasn’t it?”

“ _ Please _ ! If anything, its caused people to assume  _ he _ was responsible for the start of the war. It didn’t matter how hard he fought to keep Kirkwall together. It didn’t matter that the Circles voted to dissolve. Didn’t matter that the Templars were out for blood. All anyone could see was how our apostate friend blew up a chantry. That one act became a symbol for this whole damn war. If Hawke and I weren’t close friends, he’d had probably tried to kill me by now. As is, all my damn book has done is make half of Thedas suspect him and the other half look at him like some dashing savior. Hero… Villain… Doesn’t matter which, the expectations are crushing him.”

“Oh… I didn’t even think about all that.”

“Yeah… neither did I apparently. And I definitely didn’t anticipate publishing that book would get me arrested by a damn Seeker…”

Then a thought occurred to me. He spoke of Hawke like he knew where he was and was in contact with him even now. “Wait, do you actually know where Hawke is?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, suddenly suspicious. “Not a clue.”

Awkward silence followed as Varric seemed to be inspecting me. I was beginning to get uncomfortable. Varric was a storyteller. He could read people better than some people could read a book. I didn't want to stick around under his scrutiny, so I grabbed my bowl and gulped down the read of my soup before standing. "It was nice meeting you in person, Varric, but I should go. I'll see you when we leave for Val'Royeaux."

"Uh huh," he responded nonchalantly, watching me as I stood. "Later, Lucky."

* * *

After our first meeting. I didn’t see Cassandra again until the day before we were supposed to leave for Val Royeaux. I was waiting for Lysette to finish training the recruits after lunch and working on the common tongue again, but this time I was interested in actually reading Varric’s  _ Tale of the Champion _ . It was painful and slow going, especially since Varric’s writing relied on so many more synonyms than I had gotten used to with the Chant of Light alone - which was a  _ very _ repetitive piece of literature. He also used a lot of metaphors that made me second guess my translating at first, but I felt like his book was helping me pick up the language faster with the added benefit of getting a better understanding of the nuances of Theodosian life.

“Ugh… surely there is better reading material to fill your time with,” came a familiar voice over the crunch of approaching steps. I kept my head down to hide my smirk, knowing full well that Cassandra actually very much enjoyed a certain type of material from the dwarf.

I schooled my features into a smile and looked up. “Hello, Seeker.” She sat down on the crate next to me with a huff, putting her elbow on her knee and her forehead in the palm of her hand. “Are… you alright?” I asked suddenly wary.

She sighed and looked up at me. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked.

Oh… Wasn’t this supposed to be a Maxwell conversation? Why was she asking me? “What… do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound like I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’ve directly opposed the Chantry by beginning this Inquisition and protecting the Herald.”

“I don’t understand. Isn’t this the Divine’s Inquisition?”

She nodded with a grimace. “The Divine’s directive was to rebuild the Inquisition if the Conclave failed to achieve peace between the mages and the templars.”

“Isn’t that what happened?”

“It is… more complicated than that.” Boy was she accurate, but she didn’t even know  _ how _ accurate. “The Inquisition was supposed to put an end to the war and return peace, but now it seems we are fighting an entirely different war.”

“Does it matter?”

She looked at me with a rueful smile. “To some, it will. In time they may call me a madwoman, a traitor. They will see the Inquisition as an ambitious grab for power when the world was at its lowest.”

“And what is the Inquisition to you?”

“It is the Divine’s last request to bring peace, regardless of who the enemy is. It is the only organization right now that seeks truth over easy answers. The Herald...” she stopped and sighed before continuing. “The easy answer would have been to allow the Chantry to try him for the Divine’s death and give the people something to unite behind, but…” she shook her head.

“And what do you think is the truth?”

She looked down at her hands resting in between her knees. “You’ve seen it. He was not responsible for the explosion. I believe that his involvement at the Conclave must have been divine intervention. That his mark will be the only thing to actually help us find out who was responsible for the Conclave and bring back peace.” She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “Is this the right thing? Did I make the right decision?”

“You’re asking me?”

She hesitated, looking uncertain. “Well, you…”

I shook my head. “I can't see that far, Cassandra.”

She looked down, dejected. “Oh…” 

In truth I could see far  _ enough _ to know that the Inquisition would make several hard decisions and it would take a lot of historians many years to determine which of their future choices were worth it in the end, and I did not have that foresight with my limited knowledge. In the immediate future, the Inquisition is necessary and important, but what historians will say one hundred years from now was still anybody’s guess. All that mattered in the present is that they didn’t lose sight of what ‘the right thing’ hopefully was. So I tentatively put my hand on her forearm, drawing her attention back. She looked up at me quickly but didn’t pull away. “As long as you remember what you stand for, what you believe in, and follow your conscience does it even matter what people will say?”

She searched my eyes for some time, conflicted. “I don’t know… How will I even know what is right and wrong? I was so sure of myself when we first found him. My convictions told me that he was responsible and that seeing him pay for his crimes would at least bring  _ me _ peace over the Divine’s death. But then the vision at the temple…” she sighed shaking her head. “I had  _ believed _ that I was right, and I… I mistreated him. Mistrusted him.” She looked down and mumbled, “And I was wrong…”

I squeezed her forearm to bring her attention back. “But you  _ changed your mind _ , right? You were open-minded enough to accept new evidence even when it told you that you were wrong.”

“Yes, but…”

I shook my head, cutting her off. “The best you can ever do is to believe in yourself and try to think outside of yourself. Is this the right thing for the people who trust you, the people you’ve sworn to serve and protect? And if new evidence tells you that you had it wrong at first, then swallow your pride and act on the new information you are given. We can’t always know how our decisions will affect the future. We just have to have faith, and if we make mistakes, we can learn from them and grow from our experiences.”

A crooked smile spread across her face and she shook her head. “Thank you, Lady Darrow. Your words have some wisdom to them, and it… it was what I needed to hear.”

“Just Sophia,” I reminded gently.

She smiled more openly now. “Sophia,” she amended with a slow nod.

“And you’re welcome, Cassandra.” I sat up straighter and closed the book in my lap with a loud thud. “So, if this book is supposed to be total rubbish, would you like to tell me what  _ really _ happened?” I asked waggling my eyebrows.

When she rolled her eyes and let out a loud, “Ugh!” I laughed loudly.


	10. Sleepers Waking at the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia has another nightmare and gets a little better at controlling them. When she wakes, she sets out for Val Royeaux with the others.

I knew I was in a dream again once I saw the templars dragging Jack through the dirt. It was a recurring dream now and I’d learned to focus and determine the presence of demons trying to play on my conflicting emotions. Tonight featured Despair and Deception. They took my guilt over leaving Jack behind in the cave and my guilt over lying to everyone in Haven and they threw my lies back at me again and again to feed off my pain. But I was getting tired of this dream now, and tonight I decided to fight back. I knew that if I focused my will hard enough I could make them leave and change the dream, but that wasn’t what I wanted this time. 

All my frustration and all my anger bubbled up inside as I charged for the templar that I knew to be no more than a mere trick of the Fade. I lunged at the demon and barreled right into his middle, knocking him to the ground. I sat on his armored abdomen and struck him. The force of the punch, seeing his head jerk to the side, filled me with power and fed my rage, so I hit him again. And again. And again. Blood began to splatter across my face as I continued hitting him. In the back of my head, I knew that I should be feeling pain in my knuckles from hitting him like this, but it never came. So I kept hitting him until I could no longer recognize his face.

Suddenly a voice whispered behind my ear. It was Jack, still bloodied and bruised. “Kill him,” he whispered, his blue eyes shining through swollen lids. “Let your anger build. End his life.”

I turned back to the whimpering mass in front of me, but instead of my anger building, it dissipated. This man wasn’t real. I’d made him up. All of it. Even his crimes. This templar became an easy scapegoat for my lies, but not all templars were like this. They didn’t deserve my anger. Suddenly I was no longer on top of the templar, but instead was looking down at myself. Shocked, I stumbled off of her - me.

She was wearing my shorts and bikini top that I had worn to the caves. She brushed herself off and looked at me accusingly. “You did all this to me! You left and got me stuck here! Now I'll never go home! Everything I was, everything I was  _ going _ to be - ruined! By  _ you _ !”

Jack whispered in my ear again, hands wrapping around my waist. “Lies. Don’t let her trick you.” I turned my face towards his which was now clear of any injury. He turned his impossibly close face to me. “You’ve changed. For the better. You’re stronger now,” he said kissing my nose before placing a chaste kiss to my lips. He turned his head back to the other me and I followed his gaze. His hands squeezed around my hips. “Kill her. Kill that pitiful girl that cries about home. You need to be stronger now.” He pushed and pulled on my hips, spinning me to face him. “Let me help you. Let me make you stronger,” he said, going in to kiss me again.

“ _ Stop! _ ” I cried, forcefully reminding myself that this was a dream. I knew that the other me was Despair, trying to crush my spirit, but this with Jack… this was new, but as I thought about my feelings, the need to hit and punch and  _ punish _ . I looked up at the face of my would-be husband and all I saw was… 

“Rage,” I whispered darkly.

He chuckled and let go of my hips. When he spoke I could hear both Jack’s voice and another much deeper voice speak under his. “You  _ are _ good,” he said unperturbed at being caught. “But not good enough. Not for out there… Let me help you. Let me burn all that weak fear and doubt out of you. Alone… like  _ her _ ,” he said nodding his head at Despair’s version of me, “you will not survive. I can help you.”

“Enough,” I said pushing him back. He hadn’t changed yet, still using Jack’s face.

“You will die in this war unless you let me turn your rage into  _ power _ .”

“I said  _ enough _ !” I cried out, feeling the world ripple around me. I focused my mind into a single thought - to wipe this image before me clean, and the dark mist returned and Rage and Despair stood before me now, Deception having long since fled. 

“How can you do that?” snarled Rage moving towards me, but my thoughts focused on something new.

To be alone. 

“ _ Go _ ,” I ordered and the dark mist swallowed them both. I could feel the distinct absence of anything else around me and I shuddered, sitting down, falling into my old chair that I had gotten very good at conjuring.

“Milady? Milady, its time to get up,” said a far-off, timid voice, stirring me from my dreams. Waking up was difficult. My dreams lately had been leaving me feeling overtired when I woke, and this morning was no different. While I was not exactly bothered by the demons as much anymore, I still felt like I hadn’t truly slept. Still, not having to face them down in my nightmares would be nice. If only there was a way to control my dreams  _ before _ entering them. 

I rolled over on my terrible mattress and slowly took in the gray light spreading over the Chantry rooftop, just barely visible from my window. Realization slowly dawned on me that I was supposed to be leaving for Val Royeaux at dawn. I was going to be late. I shot out of bed, splashed surprisingly warm water on my face, and spun, running right into Laya. “Laya! God--  _ Maker _ , you scared me.” I tried to quickly cover my mistake again. Laya looked too frightened though to have noticed.

“I’m sorry, milady.” 

I took a breath and looked at her with exasperation. “Please stop calling me that.”

“I’m sorry, mil-- Sophia. I will try.”

I looked back out to the window and the gray light was slowly beginning to turn gold. “I overslept!” I cried, racing to get dressed. I threw off my shift and turned to grab my tunic when a hand suddenly came into my vision, thrusting it at me. I cried out and jumped again. “Jesus! You keep scaring me!”

“I apologize, M-Sophia.”

“Its okay,” I grumbled, taking my tunic from her and pulling it over my head. She handed me a pair of thick trousers, followed by a pair of boots I didn’t recognize. I took them with a confused look.

“The Lady Ambassador thought that these boots would be better to wear when riding,” she explained, noticing my confusion.

“Oh… thanks. I mean, tell her thanks for me.”

She nodded and then a confused look came over her face. “Mil-- Sophia? What is... ‘Jesus’?”

My head shot up. I gaped at her realizing that I’d done it again. “No- Nothing, really. Just a nonsense word I sometimes use when I get scared. Kind of like ‘crap’ I guess?” I explained lamely.

She appeared thoughtful for a moment and nodded, trying out the word for herself. I could feel my cheeks heat up and I hid my face in my hands. I definitely needed to stop doing that. I rubbed my face hard and sat down on the bed - notably absent of any cushioning whatsoever - and began pulling on my boots. Laya kneeled in front of me and began lacing them up. I placed my hands on top of hers and spoke softly, “I don’t need your help with this.” 

When she stood and looked around aimless, I realized that I  _ was _ late and figured I could use some help. “But I am running behind, so if you wouldn’t mind helping me finish packing?”

She nodded again and looked to the haphazard piles on the floor. Her face scrunched up. “Surely you don’t need all of this for your trip?” she asked, looking at me uncertain.

I looked at the piles of clothes, healer’s supplies, linens, and snacks. “What… what should I bring?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up again. I had the most difficult time last night trying to figure out what to bring. What would they even provide us for the trip? I had no idea how long it would actually take, but Maxwell warned that the trip would be slow going through the mountains until we reached the Imperial Highway near Lake Calenhad.

Laya turned back to my stuff and ‘hummed’ while picking through the piles. She took out a few outfits and placed them on my bed, folding them quickly and neatly. Then she grabbed some of my nuts and dried druffalo jerky, and turned to me. “Will this do?” she asked waving her hand at the much smaller pile on my bed.

“Will it?” I asked looking at the pile as if it was nothing at all, but on the other had, it would easily fit into a single pack.

She nodded, understanding the question beneath the question. “Soldiers are provided with basic provisions like food, water, a bedroll and a tent, but I am sure that the Herald’s supplies will include a few more comforts. You also won’t need this many clothes,” she said waving her hand to the larger pile on the floor. “The trip will only be cold for a few days until you make it out of the mountains and you will be wearing the same clothes for a stretch of your journey,” she explained, but then paused, looking at me uncertain. I smiled at her and she looked relieved and began putting my extra clothes away. I wondered if she thought I would have been upset with her over needing to wear the same clothes for several days. I didn’t mind, but if she had grown accustomed to serving nobles, they possibly might have.

When she went to pick up my medical supplies, I stopped her. “Wait. I still want to take my healer’s kit.” She nodded and grabbed another bag from my chest and began carefully packing my supplies. If there was anything I was certain of based on my time in Haven, it was that the healing supplies provided for this trip would most likely be lackluster.

“Thank you, Laya. I appreciate your help.” She smiled weakly, but looked a little bit uncomfortable.

Once I vacated the spot on my bed to quickly comb through my hair, she had moved to smooth out my bedding and pack my other supplies. By the time I finishing braiding my hair clumsily and wrapping it up into a tight twist, she had packed all my belongings into a single bag and settled my healer’s kit next to it. Much more manageable than the piles I had created in frustration last night. I smiled at her, about to thank her again when I then looked out the window and noticed that it was much brighter now outside. I quickly grabbed my bags and raced out leaving her in my cabin with a hasty goodbye.

When I reached the stables, Maxwell was already packed and on his horse talking with Josephine and Cullen while the other three were just beginning to mount and join him. Maxwell looked up from the advisors as I approached. “Good to see you’re finally awake! I figured I’d send someone to help since we were leaving so early,” he said with a wink.

I kept my head down, slightly embarrassed. I usually didn’t have a problem with waking up early. Most life in Thedas revolved around the sun. The sun rose and people got up and went about their day. When the sun set, they finished their work, ate their meal and the night was theirs to keep, but most usually didn’t stay up too late. I fell into that routine as well. I had no windows in my room in the chantry, but my body fell into the same rhythm as everyone else during my time here and by the time I moved into my own cabin, my internal clock had been set. “Sorry, I usually don’t sleep in,” I mumbled, heading for my horse with my gear. Then I realized I had no idea how to actually stow any of it on a horse and was beginning to work up the humility to ask for help when I looked up and saw a familiar face waiting next to what I assumed was my mount. “Cillian?”

“Recruit Glass will be joining you on your trip as your personal guard,” explained Josephine, walking closer with Cullen behind her and Maxwell cantering over on his horse.

“He is new,” explained Cullen, “but shows promise.”

“Besides I believe you two are already acquainted?” asked Josephine.

“We are. He has been helping me with my training with Ser Lysette,” I explained while Cillian took my bags from me and prepared my horse. “But why send him with us when I’m accompanying the Herald and his more than capable companions?” I turned to Cillian who was still securing my things. “Not that I mind really,” I said quietly. He smiled in response to wordlessly communicate that he had taken no offense.

“The Herald has certainly proven himself to be more than capable, but the Seeker, Lord Tethras, and Master Solas will be focused on his safety and their mission to--” explained Josephine before being cut off by Cullen.

“You can never be too careful when traveling to  _ that  _ pit of vipers.” Cullen still appeared to be grousing over losing the argument over the entire trip to Val Royeaux.   


“While I am certain they will be more than careful with your safety, we thought it best that you be assigned someone whose sole duty was your welfare when not within the gates of Haven,” finished Josephine.

It did make a lot of sense and I was actually touched by the sentiment. There would most likely be plenty of times within the future if I traveled with the Herald that I would need to remain behind while they fought in dangerous battles. But still, having Cillian as my guard was a nice and surprising thought. I would have figured they would send a spy or a templar to watch me, but Cillian I already knew and was beginning to grow comfortable with. I suppose he was someone who could be spared for the trip, but Cullen was right, he was doing really well in training. Others were beginning to talk of him being made an officer, but I suppose my presence changed that. I turned back to him, his hand outstretched to help me mount my horse. As I took his hand I watched him carefully. He showed no sign of resentment or even stoic duty. He looked enthusiastic. I suppose missing out on a commission was tolerable when being able to travel directly with the Herald himself.

“Leliana’s scouts will travel ahead to ensure the route to Val Royeaux is safe,” explained Cullen as the group made ready to leave. “Once you reach Jader, a private ship will take you the rest of the way.”

Josephine approached and placed a small pouch in my bag and then closed it again with a pat. “Your salary if you wish to spend it in the city,” she explained with a smile. She stepped back as the party began to depart. “Maker be with you,” called Josephine to the group as we followed Maxwell’s lead toward the road.

“And with you,” replied Maxwell over his shoulder giving a final wave.

As we rode for the trail that would take us out of the valley, Solas slowed down to ride closely by my side. I tensed as soon as his intent to speak with me became clear. It seemed that a being such as him was more than capable of focusing his attention on the veil and the Breach  _ as well as _ on me. “I did not take you for a night-owl,” he commented, mostly likely concerning my late appearance that morning. “Did your preparations give you trouble?”

I knew he was probably probing for information. Obviously not the information he was directly asking for:  _ ‘Any information, even the lack thereof reveals a truth,’  _ he had said a couple of nights ago. I still didn’t know how to handle this Solas/Fen'Harel issue. But for now, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be truthful and to try to come across as his ally. And besides, if I was lucky, all this could just be guilt for the things he said that night - things that came from suspicions that were actually true and that I was trying to lie to him about... but as far as he was concerned, his presumptions had hurt my feelings.

I sighed, trying to sweep away my own guilt. “I had some. To be honest, I had no idea what to bring, so I definitely overpacked. Luckily Laya helped me sort out some things to leave behind.”

“Laya?”

“The…” My face scrunched up at the word before I said it, “servant that Josephine has assigned to me.”

He saw my look and returned a confused one of his own. “Do you dislike your servant?”

I’m pretty sure my face look horrified when I twisted in my saddle to face him. “What? No! Laya’s amazing. She’s sweet and has been really helpful. I just dislike the idea of servants in  _ general _ ,” I explained, actually feeling better that the conversation steered this way. I knew Solas would approve of the notion and for once, I wasn’t lying straight to his face.

He looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “Well it is better to be overprepared than to go without. Still I am glad you managed to get that settled. How did you sleep?” Now it seemed as though his polite conversation was steering towards a point.

“Truth be told, I felt like I slept fine, but when I woke up I feel like I hardly slept. I’m not sure why.”

“Bad dreams again?”

“Actually, no,” I lied, trying to sound confident in my response. “Maybe its just my stressed mind being overactive. Sometimes stress can prevent us from reaching the state of sleep that allows us to dream,” I explained in order to support the lie. So much for truth… I just wasn’t ready for him to know about my dreams, or my ability to sense others in my dreams, or my newfound ability to exert greater influence on them, in case he still intended to visit. I wanted at least  _ some _ sort of advantage if that were to ever happen. “But light sleep doesn’t actually provide rest.”

“What is causing you stress?”

“You mean aside from the giant hole in the sky?”

He chuckled quietly in response. “Aside from the giant hole in the sky, yes.”

“I suppose its the trip. So many unknowns.” I stopped for a moment, thinking about what I had just said and had to laugh.

“Something amuses you...” he said more as a statement than a question.

“It’s ironic that the Herald is bringing me along in hopes that I will foresee what his future holds when I have no idea whatsoever what my own future holds.”

“I can see the predicament,” he replied with a smirk. “Have you really not seen anything of your own future?”

I shook my head. “And I have a feeling, with a high degree of certainty, that I most likely never will.”

“That is a humbling and sobering thought, to be given such a power only to be bound by limitations,” he offered in sympathy. “However, while you are with the Herald you can be reasonably certain of your own fate, yes?”

I hadn’t actually thought of that. If I knew, for the most part, what would happen to  _ him _ , I could make choices that would reduce the level of danger upon myself - if things didn’t change too much. “I suppose you’re right,” I replied, somewhat comforted with knowing that I could use this information to also get the other advisers more comfortable with me going on these trips. As long as I could promise his safe outcome, I should remain reasonably safe, right?

* * *

After a few hours of riding, I realized that travel in Thedas was much worse than I had anticipated. The road from Haven was little more than a well-traveled trail that was made uneven and difficult in places due to the snowmelt. I had minimal experience with horseback riding, and even though I have done it a few times before, I didn’t do a very good job of saving my back and legs - or my ass for that matter - from a lot of strain. When we stopped for a break to water the horses by a stream sometime around noon, I tried to dismount on my own. As I lifted my leg and leaned toward the side, my sore joints and muscles sent shockwaves through my body. I cried out and after some scrabbling with the saddle, slid right off the side of my horse, landing gracelessly on my side with a hard thud and a gasp as air rushed from my lungs. 

Cillian was the first the run to my side. “My lady! Are you alright?” He put his hands under my arms to help me stand while I regained my breath in helpless gasps. The others seemed startled at first and made to run over, but as I calmed my breaths, they seemed appeased, some even seemed perhaps more amused than I cared for...

A little further ahead I could hear Varric say through his laughing, “Oh, yeah. So calling you Lucky after that.” My cheeks burned in shame.

When I regained my breath, I tried to push him off gently. “Cillian, I told you to stop calling me that. Please just call me Sophie.” On my own two legs, I cried out again at the pain shooting up my hamstrings, into my groin, my glutes, and settling across my lower back. I began to teeter backwards. 

Cillian stood behind me with his hands on my sides to stabilize me as Maxwell approached, trying very hard not to laugh. I hung my head to try and hide my crimson cheeks. “Ignore that order, recruit,” he said with a stern tone but good-humored expression. He stopped in front of me and took me in with an amused grin. “Not much experience with riding, have you?”

I pushed off of Cillian again and stood on my own with only a wince this time for the pain that shot through my glutes and thighs. “I have!” I protested before looking down ashamed. “Just not over such long distances,” I explained, trying to salvage my wounded pride before addressing his contradiction to my request. “Why is Cillian not allowed to use my name? I’m not a noble and --”

“We talked about this,” he said with a sigh. “You're an advisor to the Inquisition now. With that comes status, and as much as you seem to want to fight it, its yours now. When you are outside of Haven you will be seen as a representative of the Inquisition and must keep those appearances. That means allowing those who serve beneath you to address you formally.”

I waved my hands outward. “Who will see out here? The trees?”

Maxwell looked serious now. “You never know when someone is watching, Sophia. Please. At least outside of Haven.”

I sighed and gave in. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” he said and pat me on the shoulder.

I glared at his smug grin. “If I’m to act like a representative of the advisors then I should be allowed to tell you to stuff it and never call me that again.”

Maxwell laughed so loudly I could hear it echo through the trees. “Now you’re learning!”

“Perhaps with a little less color if you’re to be more convincing,” added Varric as he walked up after having settled his horse. “All those sworn-to-duty types are usually all buttoned-up. Right, Seeker?” She looked at him with an eye roll and a grunt of disgust. “So, see anything about our trip yet? Aside from my amazing wit and your unfortunate lack of riding skill, of course.” I sighed and was about to defend myself when Cassandra cut in.

“I do hope for your own sake that you are able to see more than that,” she said in a low voice.

Varric looked at her shocked. His dramatics left me questioning whether he was truly surprised or overdoing it for show. “My, Seeker, is that a threat?”

“No, I simply despair for the woman’s sanity if she has to constantly see visions of you and your smug remarks.”

I laughed out loud at that. I knew Cassandra occasionally had some good witty retorts, but usually she was on the receiving end of them more often than not.

Before we continued on, we sat eating some dried rations while the horses rested and talked some more about Val Royeaux and what to expect there. Maxwell kept glancing over at me hoping I would see something, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to broach that situation yet. Did I only want to tell him what to expect? Or could I possibly use my knowledge to win over the Chantry early on? I knew I needed to give him more visions so that he’d want to bring me along more, but this meeting with the Chantry also presented a unique opportunity to make only a slight change. Eventually the Chantry would come to their senses, but could I somehow push them along earlier? If I was successful the change wouldn’t cause too many differences right?

Still, I wasn’t sure how to handle it, and I had a few more days before we’d reach Val Royeaux, so I decided to hold back for now.

After we rested, everyone prepared to resume our trip. I got up slowly, holding my lower back and hissing at the pain in my legs. Solas approached me as the others went for their horses. “If you like, I can heal your soreness before we resume.”

I shook my head, not wanting to be a burden. It felt odd relying so much on magic and I didn’t see Solas running off and healing everyone else whenever they stubbed a toe. So why was he trying to help me? I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. “It’s alright. I’ll get used to it,” I replied, not really believing myself or even looking forward to getting back on my horse. Still, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to owe anything to him.

Solas leveled me with a look. “You will not be able to rest your muscles during the trip and the pain will only grow more severe. I can heal it whenever we stop, and in a few days, you will be strong enough to ride longer distances.”

“Really, it’s okay, Solas. I have medicine I can prepare. I don’t want you to use up your mana.”

“My mana will regenerate. You cannot say the same for your supplies. Besides, your medicine will only alleviate the pain, not heal the sore joints and muscles. Only time - or magic - will do that. And unfortunately, this trip will not offer you the time or rest to heal on your own. I do not offer merely to benefit you. It will benefit us all if we make less stops in order for you to rest.”

Ah, there was the ever-pragmatic Solas.

I sighed, giving in. I didn’t want to feel indebted to him, but he had a really good point. “You’re right…”

He gave his disarming, self-assured smile, put his hands on my shoulders and said, “This will take but a moment.” Then I could feel his magic moving through me, tingling as it swept through my back and legs, relieving the stiffness and pain. 

When he finished, he removed his hands and nodded to me, then left to prepare his horse. I swung my arms in large circles, twisted at the hips, and kicked out my legs feeling the full movement return to them and the distinct absence of pain. “I’ll be damned…” I murmured to myself and turned to tackle the next obstacle - mounting my horse on my own.

Riding at the back of the group, it was easier to ignore the banter between Cassandra and Varric. Only Cillian remained close by, but he never tried to start a conversation with me, so I used the solitude to get lost in my thoughts.

At first my thoughts wandered back to Haven, wondering how the sisters were doing. I actually missed Beatris and felt guilty over not having the time to say goodbye to her this morning. I hoped they were still disinfecting their tools like I showed them, but some were still convinced in using their old methods. Some argued that centuries of tradition couldn’t be wrong - that what the Maker wills will happen. Mother Giselle was quick to remind them that the Maker often tests us with opportunities to grow and those who ignore him will find themselves ill-prepared to handle the next test. I loved the Revered Mother for that. She was so cunning when it came to goading the faithful into change. I only had a couple days to begin training the sisters in earnest after Giselle formally requested it. Part of me was afraid that leaving so soon would set their training back.

As much as I fought it, my thoughts returned again to Jack. I was beginning to adjust to life in Thedas overall, but every time I thought of him it felt like a fresh wound all over again. The uncertainty over his own safety back home, the worry over whether I’d ever get a chance to return, and the fear that he would give up waiting all ate away at the careful truce I’d made with myself over trying to adapt to Thedas. But ever since we began our journey, I’ve been struggling to not think of him and our third date in which he taught me how to ride a horse.

At first I was excited at the prospect of riding a horse. I’d never really been close to one before, but when we arrived at the stables where the horses were being prepped, I suddenly grew very anxious. Jack noticed when my hand tightened around his like a vice.

He turned to face me with a worried look. “Is everything alright?”

I stared wide eyed at the horse behind him. “I didn’t expect them to be so… big.”

Jack closed his eyes in a soft laugh. When he opened them again they seemed to sparkle. “Don’t worry, Soph,” he said, squeezing my hand and drawing my attention back to him. “I’ve got you.”

“My Lady?” called a voice, pulling me from my thoughts and drawing my attention to the tightness that had built in my throat and chest and to the piercing cold that stung my cheeks when the wind brushed across the wet trails of tears left on my cheeks.

Taking a shuddering breath, I cleared my throat and wiped at my cheek quickly and turned my head to the side to notice Cillain watching me carefully. “Sorry, what?”

“I didn’t mean to pull you from your thoughts, my Lady,” he said softly, pausing to look ahead at our companions who seemed oblivious to our conversation. “It’s just that you were singing something to yourself and then suddenly you sounded like you were choking. Are you alright?”

I wiped at my other cheek and took a deep breath, feeling the tightness dissipate. I nodded to him. “I was just thinking about someone.”

“Do you miss them?”

I closed my eyes again and tried to push the returning tears back. “Very much,” I replied, feeling my voice crack.

Cillian examined my face for some time, trying to read my reactions. Finally, he nodded slowly before gripping his reins tighter and turning his face back towards the group. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.


	11. The Journey to Val Royeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They travel to Val Royeaux by way of Jader. This chapter contains a few of the "Haven" companion conversations, but I hope they are more natural than the game sometimes presents them.

It took us two and a half days to clear the mountainous and forested trails. We would stop a few times during the day to rest and eat then we’d stop when the sun got low - leaving us just enough time to set up camp and prepare a meal before it dipped below the horizon completely. During those times, sitting around a fire, we talked more freely than on the actual journey. 

There was, of course, the usual banter that I had already known about, but they also seemed to genuinely be interested in each other. Cassandra would ask questions about everyone’s lives and their thoughts on what was currently happening throughout Thedas. Some might believe, as I’m sure Varric did based on his tight-lipped responses, that she was merely seeking to interrogate further to determine their intentions for the Inquisition, but I felt like I knew better now. After our last conversation in Haven, I felt like she asked so many questions not because she doubted them as much as she doubted her own impressions of them. 

Solas enjoyed the questions as well, and would even ask for clarification here and there and then absorb their answers nodding silently. I knew he too was trying to discern who they really were deep down. Sometimes his expression would turn to surprise or confusion, as if he didn’t expect some of their responses. At first I thought it endearing until I realized that he was probably surprised because his expectations of the people of Thedas were very low. 

Ever the writer, Varric would try to goad others into telling exciting tales of danger or scandalous stories of a sordid nature. Maxwell and Cillian mostly kept quiet during their conversations. Cillian more out of awe than anything, but Maxwell seemed to prefer watching his companions enjoy themselves. When asked questions directly he would answer them, but sometimes they felt vague and lacking. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. There was still so much about him that remained unknown. Varric commented on it more than once, but he’d just shrug in response. I found it a little troubling that he didn’t want to open up as much as the others. Perhaps it was because I already knew so much about the others - except Cillian, of course - but so little about the Herald. Who he was before this was a complete mystery and he seemed to be content to keep it that way. One thing I did learn, however, was how he felt about home when Cassandra asked him if he’d return when all this was over. A dark look came over his features before he declared that never seeing home again would be too soon. The two seemed to connect a bit over that, but I began to wonder what life was like for him and how his past would affect his decisions in the future.

They’d ask me a lot of questions too. I usually stuck to the same story concerning Denerim and the Hinterlands, then get quiet and sad over Jack or my mother, and that usually stopped them from digging too much. When it got heavy, Maxwell or Varric would jump in with a witty joke or humorous self-deprecation to lighten the mood.

They would still argue from time to time, but it became clear to me how, by the end of all this, these very different people could come to know each other so well. Whether they would be friends or not, would entirely depend on the journey ahead of them, but it was in these little moments where they would work together to set up camp and cook their meals over the fire together that I could get a clearer sense of their potential to become a family.

Once we made it to the road, the journey became much easier and we only spent one more night camped out on the side of the road before we reached Jader. As we ate dinner together that night, Maxwell was unusually silent. He kept chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing at me or Solas. Something seemed to be troubling him and when Varric got up to leave he watched his exit with interest. We didn’t talk much after he left, so Cassandra also got up and declared she would walk the perimeter before turning in. Maxwell also carefully watched her go, still chewing on the inside of his cheek. When she was out of earshot his gaze fell on Solas again and I had considered leaving too, believing that he wanted to talk to the mage about something, but before I could even get up, Maxwell finally spoke, putting his half-eaten dinner down on the ground and looking at Solas meaningfully.

“You know a lot about the Fade…” he said, thoughtful.

Solas looked up from his dinner, put it down on the ground next to him and folded his hands in his lap. “I’ve learned a great deal from my wanderings. There are, honestly, few hard facts, but I sense a question will follow your statement,” he said gently, prompting him to continue. I felt my heart beat faster. This was one of those Haven conversations the two would have. It looked like Maxwell was stewing over it for some time, waiting for some privacy to ask it. But why was I here? Was it because we seemed to be connected by the Fade? For now, I remained quiet, seeing where this discussion would take them.

“Why do you study the Fade?” he asked.

“Why not?” was Solas’ quick reply. He smirked at Maxwell when he gave him a withering look and continued. “The Fade fuels magic, but because of our fear we avoid it and so there is still much unknown to us. For me, when I was a boy growing up in a small village in the north, there was little else to interest me, but as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, grew troublesome.”

I had forgotten completely about this lie. I realized I actually had no idea why Solas began to study the Fade. How much of his statement was true and how much was a lie? Was it before or after the veil? Was he referring to waking up after his uthenera or during it? Then I also realized he never explained why being awake was troublesome… “Why?” I asked out loud. Solas’ gaze shifted to me. He looked thoughtful, but I shrunk internally under his stare. It seemed to be searching. For what, I couldn’t tell, so I avoided his gaze entirely, looking down at my stew and pushing around a piece of fennec meat.

“When you are shown a world of wonderful possibilities, a world of magic and spirits and  _ life _ \- a world made wholly impossible because of the way our world is today, how would you feel waking up to a place that no longer feels as magical or promising?”

“Oh…” I said softly and kept my head down. He was referring to waking up from uthenera and finding the world  _ broken _ .

“Why is it impossible?” asked Maxwell, curious.

“The veil.” Solas answered simply, but sourly.

“That's another thing I really don’t understand,” he said shaking his head. “What is the veil, really?”

Solas appeared to chuckle soundlessly for a moment. “Your Circles will tell you that it is a barrier between our world and the Fade, but according to ancient elven lore, that is a vast oversimplification.”

Maxwell, eager to understand, took the bait. “Then what does their lore say about the it?”

“Imagine if the Fade were not a place one went to, but a state of nature like the wind. Wholly natural to our world and permeating all around us.”

Maxwell thought hard for a few moments, his brows furrowing. I wondered if hearing this was difficult for him. Solas was telling him things that had huge implications for the world he knew through Chantry lore. “I… I don’t know if I can imagine that. Its nothing like the world I know.”

“Try,” replied Solas, simply and invitingly like a teacher inviting a student to try a difficult math problem or read a difficult passage. “Imagine if spirits were a part of our world. Not a rarity, but as natural as the grass or trees. Like a fast flowing river, yes it could drown careless children, but it could also carry a merchant’s goods or grind a miller’s flour.  _ That _ , according to the ancient elves, is what the world could be if the veil were not present, in all its danger  _ and  _ all its promise.”

“So… the veil is less a barrier between two places and more like a barrier that keeps things out? Like a house keeps out the rain or animals?”

Solas smiled gently. “That is still vastly simplistic, but more accurate.”

“Then… what is the Breach?” he asked.

Solas’ eyes flickered to mine for a moment before returning to Maxwell, most likely thinking back to our conversation back in Haven. Even to me, his explanation of ripples and broken mirrors went a little over my head at times. “There is a lot about the Breach that remains to be seen, but simply put, it is a tear in the veil between this world and the Fade, allowing spirits to pass into our world physically. Small tears can occur naturally in places where magic or death has warped the veil, but your mark seems to exert some control over it… which means that it was created deliberately. For what purpose, remains to be seen.” His gaze turned towards me again. “And it appears that the Breach most likely allows the Fade’s influence to flow more freely into our world which allows for you to experience your visions while awake.” I nodded slowly.

Maxwell mirrored my movements, absorbing it all. I took this chance to enter the conversation again and hopefully gain Solas’ trust - or at least his approval. I let out a slow breath through pursed lips. “So… if the Fade is currently a state where one visits in their dreams and in turn it fuels a mage’s magic, it sounds like the world would have been a place of limitless magic and possibilities,” I said, trying to sound like I was just coming to this conclusion in awe.

Solas leaned forward, seeming excited. “ _ Yes! _ But as it is the Fade is merely a frightening place only touched by mages and dreamers. Imagine a world we could shape freely with the help of the Fade.” He leaned back again, appraising me. “I am glad someone else sees the possibility.” His eyes twinkled with excitement. I knew he wanted to say more, but he seemed to put slight effort into being reserved. I could feel my neck and cheeks heating up under his praise and his charming smile.

“But…” began Maxwell again, following a new train of thought, “If that world were possible wouldn’t that mean demons could roam freely?”

Solas’ eyes sparked again, but I couldn’t recognize the emotion there this time. “Many say that demons hate the natural world and seek to bring their chaos and destruction to the living. But such simplistic labels misconstrue their intentions and in so doing, do all a great disservice,” he said sounding bitter again. 

“What do you mean?”

“Spirits wish to  _ join _ the world of the living, and a demon… is that wish gone wrong.”

I jumped in again. “So… if the veil were not there and spirits were allowed to wander the world freely, would that make it possible to coexist without the dangers that demons normally present?”

Solas nodded, his eyes alight with something I couldn’t read again - I hoped it was acceptance or appreciation. “There will always be a danger in approaching spirits, but the presence and nature of the veil itself is like an injury to them, to  _ us _ , stripping us all of our true promise. The world we know today makes such promise and understanding impossible.”

I hesitated, worried if this would lead someplace that could reveal too much, but I was suddenly so curious to know how he would respond. “You… make it sound like the veil wasn’t always there…”

Solas looked at me again, searching. As he searched my eyes, I searched his and found immense pain that he couldn’t seem to hide. But when he spoke it was very measured. “According to my studies of the ancient elves…” He stopped and looked at both me and Maxwell deeply in the eyes again. Then he continued, slowly measuring our responses, “the veil did not exist. The world I was shown in my dreams had once existed, but… no longer,” he finished, sounding wistful and solemn.

Maxwell sat back and let out a surprised breath. “Wow…” He seemed to believe Solas. I looked back at Solas and he looked...  _ relieved _ . But his face also darkened with something else. It looked like fear, or maybe it was disgust. “How then did the veil come to be?” Maxwell asked, oblivious to the changes on Solas’ face.

His mouth twisted harshly for a moment before he noticed my gaze and schooled his features again. “Your lore will tell you that it was created by the Maker, but I do not think it was divine at all. The damage done to the world was irreparable. Only something or  _ someone  _ rash, petulant, and utterly  _ thoughtless _ could have broken the world in this way - destroying our ability to truly manifest the Fade in the waking world and locking spirits away behind a barrier cutting them off.” I felt my heart clench in my chest and I recognized the look of disgust again - a disgust in himself. To Maxwell it would appear to be a simple distress at remembering what the world  _ could _ have been, but I knew more. I felt a twinge of compassion for him seeing how much he seemed to completely  _ hate himself _ for what he had done.

Maxwell stared hard at the fire for a few moments before responding to Solas’ theory. “It sounds like the same thoughtlessness that caused the Breach.”

My head whipped back to Solas in that moment and when I did, I saw the brief flicker of pain, hurt, and anger in the way he recoiled back as if he’d been physically struck. It was only a brief moment before he sat up straight again and worked his features back into its façade of stoicism. His eyes turned to me, noticed me watching, and for a moment I was afraid, but then his eyes turned to the fire, matching Maxwell’s glare.

Maxwell still hadn’t noticed how his words affected Solas. Instead, he seemed to be thinking. “But, I still don’t understand. Why do spirits become demons  _ now _ ?” asked Maxwell. “It didn’t seem like the demons pouring from the Breach wished to join the living.”

“Our world has become illicit and unnatural to spirits. When they fight to gain access to our world, they find that it does not mirror the one they have grown accustomed to and that the laws of nature here are unnatural to them, and so they lash out. It is tragic, but not inherently evil.”

“So you’re telling me that all those deaths, all those people who died when the Breach opened,  _ everyone _ who has died at the hands of demons throughout history, was a  _ tantrum _ ?” he asked, incredulous.

Solas gave him a look. “That is also a vastly oversimplified comparison...”

“Alright, but even if that were so... if spirits become demons when they enter our world, what about the demons already in the Fade?” he asked.

“The Fade also reflects the minds of the living. When I dream, I learn and experience the Fade with the help of spirits like Wisdom and Purpose. For me, I approach them, understanding their natures and seeing them for what they are. For others who do not wish to understand them or with minds that seek to manipulate or corrupt, they can easily warp those spirits into Pride and Desire.”

Maxwell’s eyes widened and he visibly recoiled. “You trust those demons not to possess you the first time you  _ accidentally  _ make a wish?”

“ _ Spirits _ ,” corrected Solas. “And do you not trust your friends not to turn on you?”

“Well, yes, but they’re  _ people _ .”

“Ah, of course,” Solas replied snidely and sitting back.

“You know what I mean…”

“Do  _ you _ ?” he countered. “Do you really know what  _ you _ mean? Are people only people because of their flesh and blood? Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Is Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?”

“But you said spirits were bound by their nature. That they’re shaped by contact with  _ real _ people.”

“And are you not bound by a sense of faith and justice when you make decisions and act upon them? Was not Leliana also shaped by contact with Divine Justinia, and will those of the Inquisition not ultimately come to be shaped by you - either of you? If I change your mind, does that mean  _ you _ are no more real than a spirit?”

I sat back quietly and let them argue, but I was relieved that this wasn’t as heated as the game made this line of discussion sound. Maxwell was truly curious and trying very hard to reconcile Solas’ explanations with what he’d clearly been taught his entire life. Solas seemed to read that and while he pushed him relentlessly to consider the world he was trying to describe, he was patient. Eventually Maxwell sighed and slapped his knees before getting up. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you, Solas.” He was being polite, but he was clearly very troubled. 

“Thank  _ you _ , Herald. Good night.”

Once Maxwell left, I looked up from my now cold stew. “Is it difficult? Becoming friends with spirits?” Thinking about my own dreams, I had wondered why I was able to dream so clearly in this world and why I seemed to only be able to encounter demons and never spirits.

He cocked his head to the side, examining me again. “You’d be amazed how much easier it can be to befriend a spirit rather than people in our world…” he said slowly, thoughtfully.

I gave a single huff of a mirthless laugh. Did Solas realize he saw people the way people saw spirits? “I can see what you meant… what you told Maxwell about spirits and people. Spirits can be twisted by a corrupting influence that perverts their true nature, yes, but that’s the same with people…” Solas kept his head cocked slightly to the left, but a wry smirk spread from the left corner of his mouth. I kept on with my thoughts. “If we meet people who want to hurt us or people who guide us down the wrong path, we can easily lose ourselves and become something we never intended.” My mind flashed back to Leliana and how she was shaped by Marjolaine and Dorothea. Then I thought of Cullen who told me that he was struggling to become the man he wished to be when he was a boy. I suddenly felt more compassionate towards him as I thought about all the well-meaning as well as cruel templars who would have influenced him, of Uldred and the other blood mages, of Meredith and Hawke. All had a hand in influencing him, in stoking the war brewing inside himself, pulling him in one direction or another, ultimately leading him to the Inquisition. He openly admitted to wanting to be a better man, but I was holding him accountable to who he used to be. Could  _ my  _ interactions with him influence him in a way that met rather than defied my low expectations of him? That thought was horrifying, but something I needed to consider.

Solas hummed, drawing me out of my thoughts. I noticed that the other corner of his mouth lifted in a warm smile. “It is…  _ nice _ to know that you think that. And the questions and observations you made about the world without the veil were unexpected, but not unwelcome.”

I blushed and looked away from his piercing gaze. I felt my heart rate pick up again and my skin peppered with gooseflesh. I had to calm myself down. Instinctively, he terrified me to the bone, but his very nature was reassuring and beguiling. I felt at war with myself over the fear of him and the desire to become his friend - if for nothing else than for my own safety. Finally, I looked back up to see that he was still watching me. His smile had dropped slightly, but was still there. “Is it really not that difficult to discern their natures?”

“Not once you grow to understand them. There is no question that interacting with any spirit in the Fade carries inherent dangers, but knowledge, openness, and understanding can help you not only learn to defend yourself, but to also learn so much more with their aid than is possible on your own. It is, however, nearly impossible to do if you are not a mage,” he added sadly. “Not unless they specifically reach out to  _ you _ in your dreams.”

I looked down again and nodded, more to myself than anyone else, thinking about his words and how they could help me understand my own dreams. “I think I’d have liked to try… to learn what they could teach me. If it had been possible.”

“That…” he started, but stopped in shock, his brows pulling together. He softened then and continued, “is surprising.” He was no longer looking at me but looking into the dying fire.

“Good night, Solas,” I said getting up.

“Rest well, Sophia,” he replied distractedly.

As I walked back to the tent I shared with Cassandra, I knew he was watching me from the continuous prickling feeling on my skin. I was hopeful that this conversation helped me in being seen as a potential friend by Solas, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort and fear around him. As I settled into my bedroll I wondered if that feeling would  _ ever _ go away.

That night I dreamt of Jack again. It was the same one where we were out in the snow outside Haven, but instead of flat and fluffy flakes gently falling to the ground it was more like a blizzard. I kept seeing him wandering out in the small copse outside the village but when I would run for him, he’d disappear and I couldn’t find him only for him to appear again like a shadow flitting across my periphery. I ran for what felt like hours, tears freezing to my cheeks before I grew frustrated and stopped. I remembered then that I was not actually in Haven, that this was a dream, and either I was playing out my fears and frustrations in my dreams or some _ thing _ was messing with me.

I focused on the dream, feeling the space around me. I realized that I was alone. 

I was doing this to myself.

Letting my anger and frustration rise, I balled my fists at my sides and called, “ _ Stop _ !” My voice echoed through the trees and off the mountains surrounding me, and the snow  _ stopped _ \- mid-air again, just like before. There, through the snow, I finally saw Jack, looking exactly as I’d left him back in New Zealand. He too was left standing still, frozen, but he was looking right at me with an agonized look on his face. And then he disappeared.

I sat in the snow, no longer feeling the damp chill from it, and pouted. Then I thought back on my other dreams lately, how I have been able to create something from the formless mist and last night’s discussion came to mind. Solas had said that the Fade gave us the ability to create, limited only by our willpower and our imagination. So far it had just been that chair and my parents’ front window, but I wondered...

So I focused on what I wanted most.

I was tired of Haven, tired of Thedas, tired of this damn war. I just wanted to go home.

Then the woods collapsed around me, settling into formless mist. Little by little, I worked to recreate my own house, starting with my living room that had a large picture window that looked out on a verdant and decorated street. I had hated how strict my neighborhood was about keeping up certain appearances, but as I recreated the beautifully manicured street outside my window, I realized how desperately I missed it all. I ended up only recreating my living room - without furniture - and the street outside the large window. I sat on the floor of the empty room, drew my knees into my chest and cried.

When I woke the next morning, I was again exhausted.

It was a quiet trip that morning, Maxwell still thinking about the night prior; I was exhausted and grumpy and even Varric and Cassandra were quiet. We arrived in Jader later that afternoon. As we approached, Varric huffed from on top of his horse and looked over at Cassandra. “Never thought I’d be here again, and least of all with you,” he grumbled, and then I realized he must have been referring to his trip from Kirkwall.

Cassandra turned and glowered at him, but said nothing. I knew it would take a lot for their animosity to fall to a low simmer, but actually being in the middle of it felt less comical and more awkward. Varric had plenty of reasons to be irritated, but at the same time, he was still lying to Cassandra. I also knew that Cassandra was regretting how she had acted, but at this point in their relationship, she’d rather die a very painful death than admit to it.

We stabled our horses and made for the water’s edge. When we arrived at the docks, a ship was waiting for us. The captain was exactly what I was expecting. He was a coarse-looking man wearing a weathered coat with patches of white from the sea air and spoke with a gruff, Ferelden voice. “Inquisition, eh? I got no problem with you as long as your Ambassador pays,” he finished, hocking a very large glob of spit onto the dock. He took a deep breath through his nose, smelling the air. I sniffed slightly at the air and made a face, turning away to discreetly cover my nose. The whole place smelled like sewage and rotting fish. “You’re in luck. The westerly winds have picked up. We should make it to Val Royeaux in less than three days.” Cassandra clapped a hand on my shoulder and nodded her head towards the ship, guiding me on board while Maxwell thanked him and handed him a small pouch that sounded like rattling metal when he dropped it in his hand. That must have been Josephine’s payment.

The ship had apparently been chartered out to us privately because once we boarded, the sailors prepared to depart. We were asked to wait inside our cabins so that we weren’t in their way while they handled the rigging. One of the sailors showed us to our own cabins. We were given two among the six of us. Each cabin had two bunks with a slat of sturdy wood built into the wall between the beds to serve as a table. Off to the side at the foot of one of the beds, a cloth hammock was stretched from two adjacent walls in the corner. It looked like we would need to split into two groups of three. Since Cillian was supposed to be my guard, he volunteered to sleep in the hammock in the cabin that Cassandra and I would share. 

For now, we split up to settle into our cabins. Cassandra put her pack on the bed next to the hammock and pointed at the bed on the opposite side where Cillian was to place my bag. He did as directed and I sat down on the bed, hoisting the strap of my medical kit over my shoulder and leaving that on the bed too. Cillian flung his small pack onto the hammock and settled into it, using it as a pillow.

We sat in silence for a few moments, listening the to creaking of the ship, the captain and his first mate shouting orders to the crew, and the sounds of the crew operating the ship. Cassandra moved her pack to the floor and sat on the bed. “We should probably get some rest. It’s been a long trip.” I nodded, but Cillian seemed to have that idea already having moved his arm to cover his face and starting to breathe heavily.

I sat at the top of the bed with my back against the wall of the cabin. It wasn’t much of a bed really. It was more like a box built into the wall that had a bedroll placed over top. It actually reminded me a bit of my own bed, except that underneath the mattress was solid wood which made it actually much more comfortable than mine back in Haven. I leaned my head against the wood of the ship and thought about how I should handle the Chantry. We were over halfway through our trip, and I still hadn’t figured it out.

I tried to think of the best way to handle the confrontation and how to reveal information when necessary. I really believed that Maxwell needed to show genuine surprise over the actions of the templars in order to help the sow the seeds of doubt concerning our heresy with the Chantry, and once I had learned more about his faith, I was fairly certain he would be upset by the actions of the templars. But I also believed that I could use this situation to garner more support from some in the Chantry early on. I just had no idea how to do it. When asked about what I saw, for the first few days I’d shrug and say nothing had come yet. Maxwell kept saying he was certain that as soon as I saw the city something would come to me. That gave me a little more time to figure out how to reveal what needed to be revealed. But that time was almost up.

The heavy rocking of the boat pulled me from my thoughts, making me feel a little dizzy. I normally didn’t get motion sickness - I could ride in an RV or bus, facing backwards, reading a book, and have absolutely no problems. But with my back against the side of the ship, I could feel the rocking of the waves much more and it was making me feel more unsettled than my thoughts were. I got up and mumbled something about needing air to Cassandra who watched me leave with one eye open. When I left the room, I heard a soft thud and a small ‘oomph,’ so I picked up my pace, hoping that neither of them would follow me.

It seems it was wishful thinking because as I opened the door that led out onto the deck, a grumpy-looking Cillian stumbled out of the cabin, glared back inside before turning to face me and made his way down the small hall with unsteady steps.

I looked at him confused as he approached me with a scowl. He saw my face and stopped, holding his arms out against both walls of the hall, bracing himself. “Cassandra kicked me,” he mumbled in explanation.

I tried to not smirk as a mental picture joined the sounds I had just heard. I could picture Cassandra watching me leave with her one open, ever-watchful eye and then watch Cillian still swinging in the hammock, not moving to get up. I could see the eye roll she most likely gave before swinging out with a booted foot, rousing him.

“You don’t have to accompany me--” I started.

But he shook his head. “No. She was right. While we are alone on this ship, we don't really know who we’ve hired. It's the whole reason why I am here; you shouldn’t wander alone,” he said, reaching over my head to hold the door open for us.

I nodded and walked out into the harsh sunlight, shielding my aching eyes from the bright light for a few moments to adjust. Somehow, standing on the deck of the ship, seeing the horizon and breathing in fresher air, I found myself feeling a little more settled.

Looking out across the deck I could see that Solas, Varric, and Maxwell had already made their way out onto the deck as well. I turned back to Cillian with a smile, and nodded my head to the others. “Looks like I’m not alone.”

Cillian’s eyes swept over them before returning to me, nodding. “Its still  _ my _ duty to stay with you,” he explained, not moving.

I smiled and shrugged, turning to the others, and put a friendly lilt to my tone when I said, “Suit yourself.” 

Solas stood at the portside alone, hands lazily resting on the wood of the railing and watching the horizon. Varric and Maxwell were up on the quarter deck talking. By the way Solas’ shoulders slumped and how he had suddenly gripped harder on the wood, I decided now was not the best time to strike up a conversation, so I went to see what Maxwell and Varric were discussing.

Walking up the steps onto the quarter deck I could hear them talking animatedly. “There’s no  _ way _ Hawke really could have killed the Arishok! It would have started a war with the Qunari!” argued Maxwell, shaking his head.

Varric seemed to be humoring Maxwell pretty well. It  _ was _ a pretty unbelievable story, but he still seemed to be getting exasperated as the conversation continued. “Look… I don’t know a whole lot about the Qun, but I found out later that the Qunari disavowed his actions. Apparently he didn’t ask permission for his little invasion. The Qun probably wanted to avoid another Exalted March.”

Maxwell looked thoughtful and nodded before scrunching up his lips and narrowing an eye at him. “But Hawke was really able to beat the Arishok in one on one combat? The Arishok?”

Varric shrugged. “Hey people have done crazier things for love…”

“So its true? He and the pirate?”

“Oooh yeah,” he chuckled. “Apparently she did this thing with--” he stopped, noticing Maxwell’s attention being pulled away and turned. He smiled and waved me over when he noticed me. “Oh hey, Lucky! Come on over. I was just explaining to Maxwell here the finer details of adventurous foreplay,” he said with a wink.

I laughed at Maxwell’s mortified shock and deep blush. “What? No we weren’t!”

Varric just kept chuckling as he moved to the side, making room for me to join them. “So anything new?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Not since you asked this morning, Varric.”

Maxwell smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it Sophie. It’ll come.”

“I hope so…” I mumbled, not really sure about what to tell him yet. I tried to be a part of their conversation, but I already knew most of what they were discussing both from having played the second Dragon Age as well as reading Varric’s  _ Tale of the Champion _ . I couldn’t help getting lost in my plans and thoughts. I drifted a little off to the side looking out at the horizon again. At one point, I wrapped my arm around my middle, using it to support my other elbow in my palm and rested the side of my jaw between my thumb and fingers.

I noticed that Varric and Maxwell kept looking back at me. Finally I pulled myself from my thoughts and caught one of Varric’s glances. “What?” I asked, a little offended. Why did they keep staring at me? Were they second-guessing my ability? Or did they not believe me when I said I hadn’t seen anything?

“Just wondering when you’d share with the rest of us,” he said.

They  _ were _ doubting me… I could feel my eyes widen to large disks and I fumbled for a reply. “I… I’m not sure what you… mean?”

Maxwell turned to look at him, confusion bunching up in his eyebrows that made me feel only slightly better. “You’re always wandering off into your head and humming to yourself. I’ve never heard the tune before. What is it?”

“Oh… Oh!” I felt relieved, but it turned into an embarrassed fear. I didn't even know that I had been humming or even  _ what  _ I was humming. “I… actually had no idea that I was even doing it? What was I even humming?”

Varric chuckled. “I don’t know. That's why I was asking. You really didn’t notice? You, what… compose random tunes in your head or something?”

I laughed. “Or something...” I replied. If I was singing a song from home of course he’d have no idea what it was. 

“Well, then sing one,” he replied, pulling my attention back again.

“ _ What _ ?” I sputtered. I never sang for anyone else before. Not even Jack.

“Oh, come on, Lucky, give us a song.”

I looked up to notice that the others were looking at me now. Cillian tried to not look excited and Maxwell watched Varric pushing me with an amused expression. “Yes, Sophie, share a song with us,” he goaded. I turned to glare at him.  _ Traitor. _

I groaned and tried to think of a short and simple song I could sing. Most songs I knew well were actually songs from video games or movies. I loved listening to soundtracks when I studied and apparently - according to Jack and now Varric - I hummed them when I was deep in thought. I finally decided on a short one that I had actually been thinking of a lot since I came to Thedas, and even before then. It felt appropriate. So I looked around nervously, took a breath, and sang - soft and timid:

> _ “Home is behind _
> 
> _ The world ahead _
> 
> _ And there are many paths to tread _
> 
> _ Through shadow _
> 
> _ To the edge of night _
> 
> _ Until the stars are all alight _
> 
> _ Mist and shadow _
> 
> _ Cloud and shade _
> 
> _ All shall fade _
> 
> _ All shall fade” _

The song had been resonating with me for the last couple of weeks and when I sang it out loud, shared it with these people, I felt it deeply and tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over and I faltered on the last line.

“That was lovely,” said Cassandra suddenly from the stairs behind me, most likely having decided to join us moments before. Her voice was unusually soft and dreamy.

I looked around embarrassed. Cillian and Maxwell were smiling warmly and Varric was grinning clapping his hands softly. I turned from them, red-faced and ready to escape, and noticed Solas on the main deck. He was leaning his back against the side of the ship now and looking up at us. I looked down hard at my hands before quickly swiping at my face to remove the excess moisture from my eyes. “Thanks…” I didn’t look at anyone else as I made my way back to the cabin quickly.

Varric didn’t ask me for a song again during the trip, but I was suddenly more aware of my humming.


	12. The City of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia has a plan for how to address the Mothers, but it doesn't include sharing it with the Herald. Will only a small change leave the rest of their fate relatively unaltered?

It took two more days before we approached Val Royeaux. On that second day, we all stood on the deck together, watching as we came closer to the city on the horizon. Once the spires and towering terraces came into full view, I could feel my heart swell at the beauty of the picturesque city from afar, but it then painfully constricted as I remembered why I was here. I still hadn’t given Maxwell any guidance on the Chantry. 

I must have let out an involuntary gasp because Maxwell spun to look at me, but when he noticed my dreamy gaze, he looked somewhat dejected before schooling his features and finally addressing me. “Is this your first time to the city?”

“To Orlais,” I corrected.

“It is a beautiful sight to behold,” added Solas, leaning on his forearms across the rail. “But beneath that mask lay a hidden heart of deceit. You must be careful.”

“Have you been before, Solas?” asked Cassandra. “I thought you lived alone in the wilds.”

“Just because I prefer a life outside of city walls, it does not mean I do not understand how others live nor how the Game works,” he explained in his tired, pedantic way when he felt someone said something thoughtlessly.

I couldn’t help a chuckle and tried to hide it behind my hand because Cassandra made a very similar assumption to the one Solas made back in Haven when he commented on my lack of education - although I _was_ college educated and _could_ read and write; I just couldn’t read in Thedas. I think Solas knew the source of my laughter - most likely because I couldn’t help my pointed look at him - and he returned the look with a silent sigh of exasperation. Over the last week Solas seemed to warm up to my presence. His gaze felt softer and welcoming rather than questioning and searching. I still sometimes caught him glancing my way with a pensive stare, but his helpful and warm demeanor was beginning to disarm my apprehensions. One thing I knew for certain. If this was just three weeks ago, I would have never dared to laugh in the direction of the Dread Wolf. 

I did, however, also notice Maxwell’s anxiousness over my lack of foresight so I decided to give him some reassurances - just not about the Revered Mothers yet. I had an idea of how to handle it, but that didn’t include telling him about it yet. I actually _needed_ him to be surprised by the coming events. But that presented another problem; for him, I hadn’t even experienced any visions in his presence and he looked like he was beginning to lose faith in me, so I chose some different information that I would share.

I let my eyes sweep over the scenery again and waited for a few moments before making a surprised sound. I screwed my eyes shut, gasped loudly, and lurched forward against the side of the ship which was actually quite a terrifying move since I misjudged the height of the railing and felt my balance pitching forward more than I was expecting. I cried out in surprise, but it must have been taken for pain as suddenly there was a burst of movement and voices around me.

“Sophie? What is it? Is it a vision? What do you see?” shouted Maxwell who was moving closer.

“I do not believe she can hear you,” explained Solas more calmly next to me. “It is best to let it pass.”

Panting slightly, I decided to milk it a bit and groaned, teetering forward again - confident in my grip on the railing now - but I felt hands on my waist and a grip pulling me away from the side. Arms settled behind my back guiding me down to the deck, and then thighs pressed into my back beneath me and I realized I was being held in someone’s arms.

I let out a long sigh when I deemed it should be over and opened my eyes slowly only to be blinded by the sun creating a bright halo around a head above me. I squinted against the light and put a hand up to my eyes. When they finally adjusted I looked up at a terrified Maxwell which took me by surprise. I figured he’d have been excited for my first vision, but instead his eyes appeared troubled and his mouth was etched with a deep frown. He, and the others nearby I realized, all looked shaken by my sudden fit.

“Was it bad?” he asked in a whisper. 

I tried to sit up in his arms. He shifted my weight off his legs and sat back to accommodate me. I shook my head. “It took me by surprise is all.”

“Now I see why you frightened that Chantry sister so,” added Solas thoughtfully, standing off to the side.

I looked around me more to take stock of my companions. Maxwell looked well and truly terrified, Varric looked scared but couldn’t hide his interest, Cassandra appeared deeply concerned, and Cillian looked completely helpless. Solas was the only one not looking directly at me, but he stared off pensively with a hand beneath his chin and the other arm folded around his torso.

“I’m fine now. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Solas, could these visions be actually hurting her?” asked Cassandra, turning to the mage.

That was _not_ what I wanted them to focus on. “I’m fine,” I said, but she wasn’t listening to me. She was looking at Solas.

Solas looked at me then turned to Cassandra. “I could not tell without further study.” _Definitely_ not what I wanted. “While in the moment they do seem to be causing her some distress, she does appear to be fine now, but we should take some time later to assess her fully.”

“Can’t you do it now?” asked Cassandra, still concerned and slightly surprised at Solas’s stoicism. 

“Here? With all the attention drawn to us and everyone standing over her? I’m sure she would appreciate somewhere more calm and private.” His eyes discreetly glanced towards the sailors on the ship who were busy with their work, but also sending intrigued glances our way. He also gestured to the city getting much closer now.

I turned to look at Maxwell who hadn’t taken his eyes off me yet. He was still sitting on the deck next to me with one knee now pulled up and his marked arm draped over it. He looked at me for a few moments longer, then lifted his gaze to Solas. “Tonight then. Once we address the Chantry, we will find lodging where you can rest and Solas can make sure these visions aren’t hurting you.”

I nodded, realizing by the tone of his voice this wasn’t something that could be argued. When Solas checked me out later, he’d find everything fine and hopefully that will put their fears to rest. Still I was somewhat touched by the fact that they were firstly concerned for my welfare than they were at the prospect of my seeing the future.

“What did you see?” asked Varric, taking a step closer. 

“Was it the Chantry meeting?” asked Maxwell. 

I shook my head sadly. “Sorry, it wasn’t.” At Maxwell’s resigned look, I quickly forged on, hoping to give him at least something. “It was a party at a grand villa. You attend alone, invited there by a mage. A mouthy marquis tries to start a fight with you, but the mage stops him. She wishes to join the Inquisition.”

“Really? Not many mages that are excited to join; why this one?” asked Varric. Then he looked up at Solas. “And of course you. No offense, but you’re different.”

“None taken,” he replied simply, leaning against his staff.

I tried to answer Varric’s question without showing I knew too much. I thought back trying to remember the words of her introduction to the Herald. “She... called herself the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas,” I offered, hoping that would help. 

“I know who that is,” replied Cassandra with a confused realization. “That must be Enchanter Vivienne. When the Circles voted to dissolve, she and a faction were directly opposed,” she explained. 

“She can help,” I added, trying to convince Maxwell to go see her.

Maxwell nodded to me then looked up at Cassandra. “What do you think, Seeker?”

“She is a very skilled mage and well connected. She holds a position in Celene’s court.”

“Which begs the question why she’d need the Inquisition,” said Maxwell, reading her train of thought. She nodded confirmation. 

I didn’t want him going into the meeting not trusting her, so I tried to convince him that she still wanted to help. True, she wanted to use the Inquisition, but how different was it when the Inquisition uses her, and Varric, and Solas, and the Herald? I couldn’t figure out how best to explain it so I decided ‘intuition’ would have to suffice and pushed forward. “She sees a world gone mad and only one group willing to even _do_ anything about it. She sees the actual danger amidst all the machinations and the politics and she _wants_ to help. However, she would be a fool to not recognize the voice she stands to gain when putting everything back together once all of this is over.”

“She said all that in your vision?” asked Maxwell incredulously.

Cassandra frowned. “Doubtful. No one as skilled in the Game would reveal that much.”

I shrugged. “She didn’t have to; it's not difficult to intuit.”

Maxwell nodded thoughtfully and stood, holding out his hand to help me up. I took it and he grasped my forearm with his other hand and pulled me to my feet. “Then when this invitation comes, I will go and hear what she has to say.” I couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be speaking to _me_ directly, seeking my reaction, so I nodded and smiled. He seemed pleased… _reassured_ , and then looked at the others. Solas and Varric looked at the two of us approvingly, but Cassandra seemed more unsure.

Maxwell walked me back over to the side of the ship where we would be disembarking soon. He kept a hand at my side, making sure I was able to stand on my own. My teetering from the choppy waters probably did not inspire his confidence.

I looked over to the others and noticed Cillian who averted his eyes once our gazes met. He looked like something was bothering him, and I hoped it wasn’t my visions. Did he even know about them? Did Leliana expect me to keep it a secret from him too? Was he now afraid of me like Cullen was? I kept looking at him, trying to catch his gaze again as we continued onward, but he never glanced back in my direction again, so I focused on the city instead. 

Val Royeaux was actually _massive_. The city proper (the part that I explored in the game) jutted out into the waters and reminded me somewhat of Venice. That part was not much bigger than the game depicted except that the White Spire and Cathedral were clearly visible and seemed to dominate the skyline, but surrounding the city proper, nestled along the shoreline, there was much more civilization and life than I was expecting to see. The rolling hills of the countryside were dotted with villas, and closer to the shore, the buildings became more densely packed. The shoreline itself was dotted with large public buildings, private terraces, and dockyards - one of which we were heading towards.

We entered the city proper over a long bridge from the shoreline. Passing the bridge we noticed a distinct change in the environment. The city surrounding the water’s edge was full and bustling with life. Once we crossed the bridge, the city seemed quiet and lifeless except for the doleful bells ringing out across the water. I knew it was quiet because nearly everyone was gathered in the square in order to see the Chantry confront the Inquisition, but even with that knowledge, the atmosphere was unnerving. We stopped, looking around.

“What are the bells for?” asked Varric, looking a little annoyed with them as they kept ringing.

“The city _mourns_ ,” explained Cassandra as if it were obvious.

“Sounds like an alarm to me,” he mumbled, reaching back to make sure Bianca was still there. I had to agree with Varric. Here we were, believed to be a heretical movement, safeguarding the man many thought was responsible for the Divine’s death and walking straight into the seat of her Chantry. It suddenly felt very stupid instead of bold… but I knew what would happen and I planned to use that to make the Chantry see us differently by the end of the day. I thought about how Maxwell would feel about what I was about to do, and then I thought about Leliana and the others. I almost didn’t want to go through with it, knowing how _pissed_ they’d be. _Almost_.

As if on cue, three people approached from the city proper. Two were a couple who stopped and recognized us before they promptly turned back and ran; the other was one of Leliana’s scouts. As she approached, Varric looked around uncomfortably and reached for Bianca again. “Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are…”

Cassandra grumbled and kept her eyes on the approaching scout. “Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric,” she said dripping with annoyed sarcasm and spitting his name like a curse. The scout reached our party and knelt before Maxwell, addressing him with a ‘My Lord, Herald.’ He turned to Cassandra, unsure how to respond, so she addressed the scout instead. “What have you found?”

“The Chantry Mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars.”

Maxwell looked back at Cassandra again who appeared uneasy at this news, her eyebrows arching high up onto her forehead. “There are templars _here_?”

“People seem to think that the templars will protect them from… from the _Inquisition_. They’ve gathered on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you.”

“Told you those were alarm bells,” grumbled Varric.

Cassandra leveled him with another annoyed look and then sighed deeply, nodding to Maxwell. “Only one thing to do, then.” She shook her head, and mused more to herself than to anyone else. “They wish to protect the people? From _us_?”

“I thought Leliana said Mother Giselle had names of people _amenable_ to meeting, not eager to arrest us,” grumbled Maxwell. “Well, we knew they’d react somehow. We basically asked for this.”

Cassandra shook her head again. “But I didn’t expect the _templars_ to make an appearance. They’ve all but left the Chantry.”

The scout got to her feet and looked between the two of them. “The people may just be _assuming_ what the templars will do. I’ve heard no concrete plans,” she offered.

Varric wasn’t convinced. “Do you think the templars returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I _know_ Lord Seeker Lucius. I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense - not after all that’s occurred.” She turned to the scout again. “Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed,” she ordered with a sour expression.

The scout bowed her head, responded with an, “As you say, my Lady,” and ran down across the bridge.

She sighed and began walking forward again. “Only one way to find out what is going on here.” Maxwell nodded and followed. As we entered the market, Cassandra slowed and the two proceeded together in step.

We could hear the crowd before we could see it. A _mob_ of people were pushing against each other to get closer to the platform set up by the Mothers. Some of the voices _demanded_ to know what they would do with us. 

A Mother stepped up to address them as Maxwell moved to the front of the crowd. Cassandra stood at his left, and I stood by his right. Solas and Cillian stood somewhat behind me and Varric kept back, warily scanning the crowd. The Mother raised a hand for silence and the shouts died to whispers and murmurs. As she spoke, she raised her other arm. “Good people of Val Royeaux, _hear me_! Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart… _silenced_ by treachery.” I heard Cassandra grunt in indignation next to me and saw Maxwell share a look of warning with her. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well…” she said, looking straight at Maxwell before scanning the crowd with an ambiguous smile. “Behold! The so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’! Claiming to _rise_ where our beloved fell!” 

I flinched back. She was much more impassioned than in the game, and the crowd responded rabidly. I felt Solas’ hand on my shoulder and looked back at him for a moment. He nodded at me reassuringly, and I realized the time for my plan was now. He didn’t even know it, but his reassuring hand helped me decide to act. I gasped, quietly, but loud enough that I knew at least Solas could hear it. I began to lean back and felt his hands brace my waist. 

Maxwell turned slightly to look at me, not comprehending when he looked back to the Mother and had to do a double-take before twisting his body to grasp my arms. “Soph…” he started before correcting himself and calling out in a quiet plea. “My Lady!” I kept my eyes open but tried to keep them unfocused for a few moments while the Mother continued speaking, accusing the Herald of heresy and lies. Next to him I heard Cassandra speaking to Maxwell quietly but urgently reminding him that he came to address the Chantry. I heard Solas behind me tell Maxwell to go, reassuring him that he had me. Staring blankly ahead, I could still just make out an unfocused Maxwell looking above me to Solas and nodding before letting go of me and turning. Solas’ grip tightened around me and he pulled me back further to lean against him.

“You say _I_ am the enemy?” I heard Maxwell asking, indignant and incredulous. He pointed an angry finger up. “The _Breach in the sky_ is the true enemy! We must unite to stop it!” 

It was almost time. I shook my head lightly and tensed, trying to lean forward. I felt Solas’ grip loosen, but his hands did not leave my sides. “Are you alright?” he whispered in my ear. I nodded and tried to look somewhat frantic, looking around. 

While Cassandra spoke up in Maxwell’s defense, I saw the line of templars approaching before the Mother even pointed in their direction. I forced a surprised, choked gasp from my lungs and loudly cried out about it being too late while the Mother echoed my words from her platform. Cassandra and Varric watched the templars approach, wary, but Maxwell turned to me in panic. “What is it? What did you see? What's too late?” 

I tried to look completely panicked as the templars approached the platform while the Mother promised the crowd safety. Even though I knew I needed to act _now,_ I was momentarily rooted to the spot in terror. 

This was the point of no return. If I did this, there was no telling how _anyone_ would react and I was gambling it all, but at the same time I couldn’t let this woman be attacked by the templars. Finally finding my courage, I burst into action. “No! It's a trick! They mean to harm you!” Even as I shouted, I was rushing forward, ignoring the protests of my companions. I pushed forward trying desperately to ignore the alarmed looks of the Mothers and of some of the loyal templars with them, the man who I assumed was Ser Barris reaching for his sword, and Lucius’ snarling face morphing into one of amusement as one of his templars pulled an arm back, ready to strike the Mother who was wholly focused on me.

I thought I had a plan… but really I had no idea what I was doing. I reacted. Rash and impulsively. As I approached the Mother, slowly backing away from me in fear, she seemed to notice in the corner of her eye, at the last second, the fist coming towards her head. I collided into her and felt her hands grasp my upper arms in shock. But when she noticed the blow coming she had already tensed, and instead of falling to the ground as I had hoped, she stayed on her feet, gripping me tightly.

And so the templar’s fist missed her head and landed squarely in the space between my right shoulder and my neck, stunning me. 

I gasped and slumped, but the Mother’s grip tightened, keeping me upright. She was sputtering in front of me, slowly lowering me to the floor. “What…? Why...? _How_?” The Lord Seeker only laughed at the display and at the sound of armor shuffling, I could hear him tell the bewildered still-loyal templars that _we_ were beneath _them_. My head lolled about, my neck feeling both incredibly stiff and weak at the same time. I couldn’t feel pain just yet, only an intense burning feeling that dulled the sense of pain.

Behind me, Maxwell roared and leapt forward, but Cassandra grabbed his arm and held him back. “What is the meaning of this!?” he shouted. Behind him the crowd, having been stunned into silence, was coming back to life. Some despaired what they would do now if the Templars wouldn’t help them. Some - who stood closer to us in the crowd - loudly pointed out how I had somehow _seen_ it before it happened. I grimaced. Leliana was going to _murder_ me.

Lucius merely smirked snidely down on Maxwell from the platform. “The Chantry’s claim to authority is an _insult_. Much like your own, and if you worry for your friend’s welfare, perhaps you should warn her about meddling in affairs beyond her comprehension.”

“You…” I said accusingly, trying to pull his attention back. I looked up at him, trying to suppress a groan and blinked a few times before he came back into focus. Then once I knew I had his attention, I let my eyes lose focus again and groaned, clutching at my head and screwing my eyes shut. I heard Varric, Cillian, and Maxwell all call for me again in different names: Lucky, my Lady, and Sophie. This time I let it end quickly and looked up at Lucius’ sneering face with a shocked glare. 

Maxwell reached me now and he and the Mother both helped pull me to my feet, but I pushed them off and took an unsteady step towards the Lord Seeker. I leveled a knowing look at him and pointed with my left arm. “ _You_ are the fraud!” I shouted over the growing volume of the crowd. Lucius narrowed his eyes at me suddenly, looking murderous. “You are not who - or _what_ \- you say you are,” I clarified. At that, what little remaining color in his pallid face drained completely. I felt my stomach clench, not knowing what would happen next, but to my utter and profound relief, he turned and ordered his templars to march. When one of them - again most likely Ser Barris - objected, he was ordered back in line by another. I gritted my teeth at the needless violence that would come all because the templars traded one leash for another - only for that leash to be handed off to yet _another_ master who sought to subject them. Cassandra tried to follow, to reason with him, but he brushed her off angrily.

I groaned in pain as the numb burning died and was replaced with an intense, throbbing pain. I fell to my knees and felt the bile rise. I tried to ignore it while Maxwell kneeled beside me, his hands on my back. I broke out into a sweat trying to hold it back but my stomach twisted and I threw up on the floor of the platform. Hands pulled me back and I was again found laying in Maxwell’s lap. Solas appeared in my vision and he placed a gentle, cool hand to my neck. I felt tingling again and the stiffness and pain subsided from my neck and shoulder, but the sick feeling in my stomach remained. 

Mother Hevara now also appeared in my line of sight as she knelt down in front of me, a look of bewildered awe on her face. “We were going to arrest you… all of you. Why did you stand up for me?”

I was surprised she even asked that. I knew that the display of seeing the Chantry brought low like that would sow doubt for many of the faithful after seeing them shown up by their own templars, but was all that _really_ necessary? Instead I wanted to offer an olive branch, a truce. They would eventually see their error, but I hoped I could give them a little nudge earlier. If not a nudge, at least a little doubt in their own fears and prejudice. “I wasn’t going to just _stand_ _there_ and let a templar _assault_ you.” Behind me I heard Varric mumble ‘I would have’ but I didn’t really believe he'd stand for that either if he knew what was going to happen.

Mother Hevara seemed to be painfully considering something. I hoped it was that she was beginning to realize that she was wrong. Then her eyes focused on me again and she asked with more conviction, “Is it _true_ , what you said? That the Lord Seeker is a fraud?” I nodded gravely. “But _how_ can you know?”

A Mother who I couldn’t see at that moment spoke up behind me, “How did she even know what that templar was going to do?”

Mother Hevara looked up at her, considered what she asked, and looked back down at me expectantly. 

I… hesitated. I had gained the appreciation of a single Mother. Was it enough? Could I explain away instinct or intuition? Would they believe me if I told them about the visions? If they did, would they think it was divine or demonic? And worst of all, could I spare myself the anger of the advisers at having expressly disobeyed them? “I don’t know how to explain it…” I started.

Maxwell sighed behind me, deeply and resigned. “She saw it.” I twisted in his arms and looked at him in shock. Was he going to actually tell them?

I turned back to the Mother to gauge her reaction. Her eyes shot up to Maxwell, eyebrows arching high. “ _Saw_ it?”

I could feel him nodding slowly by the pull and tension in his chest. Cassandra had already returned looking dejected by her failure to reach Lucius and now stood at the edge of the platform. She said Maxwell’s title slowly as if in warning. “What choice do we have, Cassandra?” She looked away from him resigned. He continued, “Ever since the Breach, she has experienced waking visions.”

“Visions?” asked the Mother, prompting him to clarify while her eyes expressed so many fleeting emotions. She was giving him the chance to explain before she reacted, but I had a feeling she didn’t even know _how_ to react by the way her expression constantly shifted.

“She sees the Herald,” explained Cassandra in a voice that sounded like she was being forced to admit something she didn’t want to. “She has seen him fighting for the people, closing rifts, and trying to close the Breach…” She hesitated and heaved a sigh. “ _Before_ it happens.”

A different Mother from behind me cried out, “Dear Maker!”

Mother Hevara looked at me now sadly. “Is this true?” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak anymore. Her face was sad but also held something else inscrutable. She sighed, shaking her head. “If this is true, then…” She looked away and stared hard at the horizon over the docks for several moments. Finally she swiped a quick hand at her cheek then turned back to me. “If this is true then that means we have been wrong about a great many things…” she explained gravely. “And I fear for the future of us all.”

I felt relief flood through me and sat up from Maxwell’s lap. “So you… believe us?”

She nodded, the sadness still etched on her face. “Yes, child. I believe you.”

“And the Herald?”

“If he is true…” she stopped, looking like she was going to cry again. Her eyes moved to him. “Then so much of what we have believed is false. _But_ … if you truly wish to help, then I will pray for you.” She looked back at me again. “Both of you.”

Cassandra climbed onto the platform and stepped forward, speaking gently. “Mother, do you know where the templars could have gone?”

She shook her head. “I really do not know. I suspect we can expect renewed efforts against the mages from him and yet _more_ chaos.”

She looked at me again. “There must be a way through all this. Is it you? Is it the templars? Is all of this the Maker’s will?” She shook her head. “We abandoned our duties, we servants of the faith. Now we can only pray.”

Maxwell stood, his hands slipping beneath my arms and pulling me with him. “There’s _got_ to be a way to stop this mess and bring back calm.”

“We hope against hope that may still be possible,” she said sadly, also rising to her feet and turning to me. “What have you seen?”

I clutched my stomach and winced, feeling queasy from all the movement. “Not much,” I said through soft pants, trying to avoid getting sick again. “It comes in pieces. What destiny holds, or whatever the Maker plans, I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I hope you do,” she said somberly, and then looked up at Maxwell. “And I hope you succeed. For all our sakes.” The Mother then bowed her head for a moment and reached out for another who came and took her hand. Together the three Mothers walked back towards the Grand Cathedral.

Maxwell heaved a sigh and leveled me with a look. “Well, that was poor timing.” 

I flinched, hating how I deceived him and strung him along during the entire trip. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

He shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for your visions, just… maybe give me a heads up next time you plan to play hero on your own. Or better yet… _don’t_.”

I smiled sheepishly, remembering the throbbing pain, still tasting the bitter bile in my mouth. “Oh don’t you worry, I don’t plan on taking a punch for anyone _ever_ again.”

“Good.”

Varric spoke up now, standing next to Cillian in front of the platform. “So uh.. any thoughts on how Curly or Nightingale will respond to all this?”

Cassandra’s gaze darkened. “Leliana is going to _kill_ us.”

Maxwell looked at Cassandra then. “What did the Lord Seeker say before he left?”

Cassandra shook her head, looking as though she couldn’t believe the entire exchange had even taken place. “He… he said he wouldn’t help. That we were powerless to do anything to stop it. He said,” she paused, shaking her head again, “that only _his_ destiny demanded respect.” She looked up at Maxwell, fear in her eyes. “What does this mean, Herald?”

Varric looked down grumpily. “I think that means we need to look elsewhere for help, Seeker.”

Maxwell shook his head and hopped off the platform. “Nothing we can do about that now. Maybe Josephine can look into it more back at Haven. For now, let’s just get some rest.” He walked through the market, shoulders slumped. He had no idea what was coming and it seemed to press on him greatly. He had successfully convinced _three_ Mothers to doubt their suspicions, but to see the Templar Order like that had to weigh on him. Then a thought occurred to me. When starting up the game and choosing a character, Trevelyan was described as the youngest and having many family ties to the Chantry and the Templar Order. I wondered if that meant close family. Then as he walked further through the square, I remembered what would happen next.

“Maxwell, wait!” I called and ran towards him. He stopped and looked up at me, but he suddenly jumped in surprise at hearing a swift _Thunk!_ behind him.

The rest of the party quickly ran up to him. “Who shot that?” cried Cassandra, scanning the rooftops, her shield now on her arm and hoisted up over Maxwell’s head, ready to deflect another attack.

“Huh. There’s a message,” said Varric, picking up the arrow and peeling off the scroll tied around it.

I put my hand on Cassandra’s shield-arm, getting her to relax. “It’s alright,” I said calmly. “She meant no harm.”

“ _She_?” she asked incredulously and still scanning the rooftops. However, she still lowered her arm.

“Did you see this would happen?” asked Maxwell. “When?”

I looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. I saw it earlier, but I didn’t place it until I saw you walking off. She wasn’t aiming for you though. She just wanted your attention. You weren’t in any danger.”

“From _who_?” asked Cassandra again.

“I think you should read her message,” I said, indicating Varric who was unrolling it.

Varric read it out loud. “‘There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and ‘round the cafe, and maybe you’ll meet him first. Bring swords.’ Signed ‘Friends of Red Jenny.’ Huh. And they’ve drawn locations of the ‘red things’... I think?” he said twisting the paper around and squinting at the crude drawings.

Cassandra scoffed. “The Jennies?! They’re nothing more than a disorganized group of assassins. Why would they help _us_?!”

I shook my head. “Not anymore. They’ve changed and this one also believes we’re the best hope for fixing the sky.”

“I don’t like this. We don’t need criminals and assassins to help us.”

“But you will accept the help of apostates and prisoners?” questioned Solas looking at her meaningfully. “You misjudged the Herald already. We should give these Jennies a chance to present their case before we dismiss them.”

“Regardless of how we feel about them,” interjected Maxwell before Cassandra could rebut, “This is worth investigating if someone here truly intends to attack the Inquisition.”

Cassandra sighed. “You are right, of course.”

“If it helps I can tell you where the clues are. So you don’t have to rely on her ‘map.’”

“Can’t you just tell us where this guy is?” asked Varric looking perturbed about going on a scavenger hunt. 

I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is, honestly. Only that he is within the city. Each clue is important - some will have items you need - and before you ask, no, I don’t know what each one says either,” I said - truly not remembering. “At the end of the trail, you’ll find them both, and she helps you. A small warning though,” I said holding up my pointer and thumb together and squinting between the small space between them. “Her help is a little bit... unconventional.”

Maxwell, Varric, and Cassandra decided to split up and go for the clues that I had pointed out for them. Before we left the square, I also pointed out the merchant who seemed to be looking at us with great interest and advised Maxwell to speak with her, and then we ran into Vivienne’s messenger. He then told Solas and Cillian to take me to the ‘The Sleeping Lion,’ some inn near the outskirts of the city. As we crossed the bridge, I noticed an elf in robes walking into the square looking around cautiously. She caught sight of Maxwell heading for the stairs that would take him to the upper terraces and she followed.

A little while later, we found the inn that Maxwell described and Cillian got us three rooms to share among the six of us. They then accompanied me to one of the rooms and Solas invited me to sit down. I sat on what I assumed would be my bed for the night and Solas pulled up a chair and sat in front of me. He held out his hands, palms up, and asked, “May I?” I put my hands in his and felt the tingle of magic again. It was spreading through my body, assessing me. After a time, he sat back and put his hands in his lap. “You seem fine. The magic is still there, clinging to your every fiber, but it does not appear to be harming you. However, I am still concerned. You had several visions today after which you appeared visibly weak and were forced to purge yourself.”

“Yes, but I was also punched in the neck _and_ suddenly very aware of how easily the Lord Seeker could have killed me. That's a lot for the nerves...”

Solas seemed thoughtful for a moment and I noticed Cillian shifting on his feet uncomfortably by the door. “That is very true. However, I would still very much like to observe you carefully when you experience more visions. I am not satisfied that they are not hurting you in some way. If it is linked, indeed, to the Herald’s mark then there is no telling what harm it could be doing to the both of you.” I sighed and nodded, resigned. Maybe all his digging will lead him to figuring out what this strange magic was inside me, but what if he also discovered that my visions were faked?

Solas seemed pensive for several moments before he finally decided to speak. “Sophia--” 

There was a knock at the door that interrupted Solas. We both turned as Cillian opened it. Maxwell, Cassandra, and Varric filed in, each with their own clues, a map, and a key. Solas stood from his chair to greet Maxwell. “Herald, what did you find?”

He looked at me first, then turned to Solas. “What did _you_ find?”

Solas held up his hands, palms up, out to his sides, raising his shoulders slightly. “The magic is still there. It seems to be deeply connected to the Fade, but I still cannot discern its origin. Other than that she appears to be fine.”

Maxwell remained quiet after Solas’ explanation, so Varric stepped forward, shaking his head with an amused grin. “I gotta say, Lucky. There’s something to that name of yours now.”

“Ugh. I hate it...”

Solas appeared thoughtful again as he looked back at me. “You have to admit that today turned out rather well, much more than it could have.”

I grimaced and looked away from the two of them and looked at Maxwell who was looking at me, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Your vision came with very little time to act on it.”

I looked away from all of them now, feeling both guilty and panicked. Was he angry? “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, looking intently out the window.

He sighed. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control them. It's just…” he stopped and took a moment. “Sophie,” he said, calling my attention back to him. I looked back to see him troubled. “You can’t run off like that again. Do you even understand how truly lucky you were?”

“Trust me, I _know_.”

“ _Do_ you? You ran right at a Chantry Mother in front of both her loyal templars and rogue templars who meant her harm. _Then_ to top it all off you outright accuse the Lord Seeking of being a _fraud_!” His voice kept rising in volume as he spoke, finally punctuating the last word with a shout and slapping his thighs with his hands. He took a deep breath and continued, softer. “He could have killed you.”

“I know,” I whispered back. “But he didn’t.”

“But he could have!” replied Maxwell, his voice rising again. “And what’s worse is that you wouldn’t have even known! You _can’t see yourself_ in your visions!”

Then I became suddenly and distinctly aware that Cassandra and Varric had already ducked back out the door and that Solas and Cillian were quietly leaving the room as well. I didn’t know if I felt betrayed in that moment or thankful that they would no longer be around to witness me being scolded like a reckless child. 

I wanted to shout back at him… I was trying to help, trying to make things better, easier for him. But I also knew he was right. I wasn’t used to this world, its politics, its religion, or its dangers. I had no way to actually defend myself and had to be protected by others. I was asked to keep a secret and I completely disregarded that. In three ways today, I had put my life in danger. I had confronted the templars myself, I had revealed my abilities to the Chantry - who mercifully didn’t outright accuse me of being an abomination, and I exposed myself as a threat to an agent of the enemy.

To Maxwell, I was some prophet sent by the Maker to see him through this holy calling. But what's more, we were beginning to become friends. This entire day I had terrified him with my visions and my actions. Real, true, gut-wrenching guilt washed over me and I looked away again. “I’m sorry…”

“Will you _stop_ apologizing,” he said exasperated while walking over and throwing himself into the chair Solas had vacated, looking exhausted. He rubbed his face with his hand. “I felt so helpless today,” he admitted suddenly, sounding defeated. 

“You did?” I asked, surprised. 

“That and incredibly guilty,” he said looking up at me with an expression that stunned me. He looked torn and ashamed. 

I was so caught off guard by the sudden change that my next question was barely a whisper. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m using you. It wasn’t so bad at first, you were so eager to help, but then I saw what those visions did to you today. Not once but _three_ _times_. Your visions, my mark... I don’t know what they are, how we got them, or what they’ll do to us. And I just _can’t remember_ what happened at the Conclave,” he said staring off to the side and tightening his fist so hard the leather creaked. “Then today your vision came with little to no time to act. I acknowledge that there was no time to explain, no time to do _anything_ , but act. I don’t blame you for what you did. It was the right thing to do, but you shouldn’t have to be the one to do it.”

I reached out and placed a hand on his fist. He loosened his grip and looked back at me. “I may not have chosen to be in this situation,” I started, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to lie in this moment. “But I _chose_ to stay, to help you. You are _not_ helpless. You’ve been thrown into a hopeless situation with the means to do something about it. I truly apologize for the part I played in making you feel this way. I never wanted to bring you pain. But you also can’t try to shoulder this burden on your own. You need us, all of us, to lighten the load. Let me help you too. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

His features softened as I spoke, but when I finished he looked confused and slightly affronted. I pulled my hand back. “I’ll always be worried about you, Soph. What?” he asked, distracted by the wince I let slip onto my face before I could stop it.

When he used that name, I felt a deep and sudden clenching in my chest that caused actual physical pain and before I could control my reaction, I had winced and looked away. “Jack calls… _called_ me that…” I replied softly. 

Maxwell sighed and sat back abruptly in his chair. “Dammit,” he said to himself, frustrated. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop messing everything up today…”

“You haven’t—“

“Yes, I have. You may have had the vision, but I told the Mothers. Cullen isn’t going to forgive me for that, and I’m pretty sure Leliana would be planning my murder if I wasn’t carrying the mark. And now you keep apologizing to me as if I were angry with you, and yet here you are trying to make _me_ feel better.” He let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry for reminding you… of him.”

I shook my head and tried to smile. “It’s alright. You didn’t know.” I put my hand on his again. “It meant something that you wanted to call me that.”

“It did?”

I shrugged, but answered. “I don’t know. To me, you shorten someone’s name because you plan to say it often, or you personalize it because you want to make a connection. One that’s just between you and the other person.”

Maxwell was quiet for about a minute, reading my face. “I didn’t even think about why I did it, but it makes a lot of sense. Maker, Sophie, the things see and understand…”

I suddenly felt very shy under his scrutiny and looked down at my hands. “So which is it?”

“What?”

“Your reason.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replied in a low, playful voice that made me look back up at him. He had actually managed a smirk that was beginning to reach his eyes. When he waggled his eyebrows I finally burst into laughter, feeling lighter. “Thank the Maker,” he sighed, leaning back and stretching. “All this heart to heart business can be a real downer.”

I smiled at him fondly, thinking about how today really was an emotional and draining day. Then I remembered how he had walked away from the platform with shoulders slumped and my earlier question returned. “Hey, Maxwell?”

“Hmm?” he responded, still looking light and scratching at the scruff that was beginning to grow in on his neck.

“I remember that you are just the youngest in your family,” I started. Maxwell stopped rubbing his jaw and sat up straight, his smile gone. I was hesitant to proceed, but there was so little I actually knew about him. I needed to figure it all out the ‘old-fashioned’ way. “Your family is loyal to the Chantry, isn’t it? Did that mean you had any… you know? Family with you? At the Conclave?”

He looked like he tried to avoid my gaze for a moment when his eyes darkened, but just as quick as it happened, it was gone and he was looking at me again. “My oldest brother, Julian, will become Bann when my father dies, and my sister Evelyn is promised to the eldest son of a noble family in Wycome, so neither were promised directly to the Chantry. Nope. That was all my honor,” he said somewhat bitterly.

“You were promised to the Chantry?”

“I was to become a templar,” he said, completely taking me by surprise. He noticed this and smirked. “Shocking, I know. I would have made a terrible templar. But I was promised to them nonetheless and I had accompanied some of the templars who were going to oversee my training to the Conclave.”

“So old? I thought they trained templars from their youth."

To that he only shrugged, his face dark. I knew there was a story there, but I wouldn't be able to get it tonight.

"So you had no family there?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” he replied, glumly. “My cousin, Maric, was a templar traveling with the White Spire contingent. I really liked him… he was always kind and protective.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I whispered.

“It seems we’ve all lost something since all this began. I doubt it won’t be the last before this is all over either.”

“Now who’s being a downer?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood again. Something about his family was clearly troubling him, but I doubted this would be the night to discuss it.

“Right? I have a party to attend! I’ll never be allowed to show my face in Orlais again if I plague their soiree with my moodiness,” he replied sarcastically.

“Ah! Then you are saved, my friend, because in Orlais, you can always hide your shame behind a mask,” I offered with a wink. We laughed for a little bit, trying to allow the humor to sink in, but it was difficult for us both. I could tell by how tired his eyes looked. We both had a very trying day - and his wasn’t even over yet.

“I’ll let you get some rest. Tomorrow I can show you around the city before we address the plot against me and find this ‘Friend of Red Jenny.’”

I nodded, feeling very tired and leaned over to my left, laying on my side and folding my hands beneath my cheek. “Goodnight, Maxwell. And remember, do try to not kill the marquis.”

He smirked and gave an exaggerated bow. “I shall try my best, my Lady.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the honorific. Then I remembered and pushed myself back up into a half-sitting, half-leaning position. “Hey,” I called after him when he began to walk out. He stopped and leaned against the door. “You called me Sophie earlier today. Instead of my Lady. I heard Cillian call me that, but you didn’t.”

“Well, I was thinking that you were about to get yourself murdered publicly by templars, so pardon me if I forgot decorum.”

I smirked and shook my head, laying back down on my side. “Yeah, okay.”

“ _Yeah, okay…_ ” he mimicked in a high pitch walking out as I snorted a laugh in response.


	13. A Broken and Brokered Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia struggles with her nightmares that seem to be playing on her guilt and fears. The emotions begin to affect her out of her dreams as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SOOO sorry about posting this later in the day, so I've decided to post two tonight! Once I post this one, I'll work on editing and revising the second. I got my dog's allergy test back today to find out she's allergic to 21 things! (15 trees, grasses, and weeds and 6 foods) So I spent a lot of time today researching and buying foods and treats she can eat and researching how to walk a dog who is apparently allergic to nature lol...

I strolled through the shaded terraces, the sunlight flickering through the fluttering silks and the leaves of potted trees. The vivid red, orange, and yellow of the leaves and the bright but chilly sunshine all but heralded the coming of autumn. Below me the marketplace stood empty of all its bustling, pushing about, and hawking of wares. This dewy morning belonged only to me. Well, me and just one other as I caught a glimpse of that black hair fluttering across a lightly tanned face. 

Maxwell was leaning against the marble railing of the terrace, his eyes closed, soaking up the morning sun as if it were healing him from the inside out. Healing him from his pain, his worry, his burdens. Healing him of the _mark_. As I approached he opened his eyes and looked up to me, a warm smile spreading across his face. With a brief nod of his head and the way he shifted to the side, he was beckoning me to join him.

I took my place beside him, leaning across the cold marble stone with my forearms, and he resumed his former position, our shoulders brushing against each other. Here, facing the open bay, the wind blew much more freely, whipping my hair gently around my head. “I never knew it could be so peaceful here,” I said quietly, in awe of the colorful sunrise and autumn hills of the Heartlands reflecting on the surface of the water.

“You’d be surprised at what you can miss if you aren’t looking. I mean _really_ looking,” he said staring out at the horizon. I turned to look at him, standing up a little straighter and leaning against the railing with my left elbow. He watched my movements from the corner of his eye before turning to face me and mirroring my position. “Everything is changing,” he said, closing his eyes and breathing deep, taking in the smell of the musky shoreline. He opened his eyes again and the intensity with which he looked at me created a tight knot in my throat. “ _You’re_ changing everything. Aren’t you?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked startled and took a step back. 

Maxwell took a step forward. “Your presence has altered the very air around you. I can see it, flexing and stuttering like a halo of light. Why is that?” he asked cocking his head to the side.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Who--” but before I could finish the thought, my heart seemed to stop and beat faster all at the same time. I spun, looking frantically for the source of the familiar voice calling out my name.

There, approaching us from the stairs that led up from the marketplace was Jack. My heart swelled when I caught sight of him, looking dirty and haggard. “Jack!” I cried, dashing across the marbled terrace to throw myself in his arms which immediately enfolded me, pulling me into his warm chest.

“Sophie…” he whispered into my hair, uttering my name in such a way that sent shivers down my spine. My name on his lips sounded like a prayer of supplication. I wrapped my arms around him tighter. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. I can’t believe you’re really here.” His hand tightened its grip on the back of my head, pressing my face into his shoulder.

I pressed against his chest and he relaxed his grip on me, sliding his hands down my arms. “How did you find me?”

He cupped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I followed you through the Fade. I’d follow you anywhere, Soph.”

“But what if you’re stuck here now too?” I asked, panicked, gripping his upper arms tightly.

“Anywhere with you is home. Oh, Soph…” he wrapped me in a tight embrace and I cried into his shoulder.

“Soph?” I tensed at the strange voice wrapping its sound around a name that only Jack used. Suddenly the mere moments prior came rushing back. I pulled out of Jack’s arms and turned to face the Herald of Andraste.

“You’re not Maxwell,” I whispered, trying to sound defiant, but I knew I only sounded like a scared little girl.

The Herald looked hurt by my accusation. “How could you say that, Soph? After all we’ve been through together, all you’ve set into motion. You would leave me now? For _him_?” He eyed Jack with distaste. I felt my hands reaching for him behind my back. When his hands slipped into mine I clutched him tightly.

“Stop calling me that,” I demanded. Hearing that name from the lips of this Fake-Maxwell felt _wrong_.

“Why? You left him behind, Sophie. You came here. Joined me, _begged_ me to let you help me, and I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his face growing dark with anger and something far more sinister.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not what happened…” I tried to remember exactly how it happened - our meeting and my officially joining, but I struggled to call the reality of it to the surface. 

“She’s returning home with me,” said Jack, pulling at my hands and stepping in front of me.

“She thinks she can just go home? She’s changed things. Too many things. She can’t go home. She’s not done yet,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

“She’s done when I say she’s done,” countered Jack, stepping forward menacingly.

Maxwell laughed derisively. “Come now. Admit it. You were _happy_ when she left you all alone. Happy you finally got rid of the lost little girl who needed a doctor much more than she needed a _man_.”

Jack lunged at him and the utter joy on Maxwell’s face made me recoil in horror at the realization that he wanted this, pushed for this. The dawning sunlight flashed across steel and before I could warn him, Maxwell had his dagger planted in Jack’s right side, the blade slipping through his ribs and burying in his flesh up to the hilt.

“No!” I screamed, falling to my knees as Jack dropped to the ground, his chest hitting the marble with a sickening thud.

Maxwell wiped the blood off on his breeches and put his dagger back in his belt with a flourish. “There. Now you have nothing left to return to.”

Suddenly Maxwell was gone and a hooded elf walked along the marble stone, feet bare, but the rest of him garbed in the tight and gilded cloth of the ancient Elvhen, a mantle around his shoulders. He circled the body once looking down at the bloodied corpse with distaste, before turning back to me, his eyes flashing silver for a brief moment. My heart clenched in utter terror and I was struck mute in the presence of Fen’Harel.

“Does this form bring you fear, child?” It felt so wrong hearing those menacing words being spoken with Solas’ voice. I whimpered, leaning forward on my hands and stared at the stone beneath me. His feet came into my vision and I felt a strong grip wrap around my jaw and pull my head up. His eyes were now blazing like white fire. 

He took a long, drawn-out sniff. “Yes…” he said slowly. “Fear is what weakens you. Good.” His voice turned low and gravelly, distorting into a deep pitch that no longer belonged to Solas. “Give me your terror.”

The serene image of the marketplace began to waver like mist, and I squeezed my eyes shut and focused all my strength and willpower into a single thought.

* * *

I woke up drenched in sweat. It was still dark out and, beside me, I could hear Cassandra breathing deeply and slowly into her pillow. 

I threw the blankets off of me and swung my legs over my bed. I had dreamt of Jack again, but this was the first time I had dreamt of Maxwell. I shuddered to remember how wrong it felt to hear ‘Soph’ come from his lips when just last night -- or earlier today, I suddenly thought, looking out the window at the dark night -- he called me that and I had considered it a compliment.

But those weren’t his lips, I had to remind myself. And that wasn’t Jack, and that wasn’t Solas. It was a fear demon. It had discovered the fear that I was too scared to confront - that I would never make it back home, that I was changing things here by interfering too much. Now that I was awake, I realized a part of me always knew that I was dreaming and in the Fade, but at the time I couldn’t seem to bring it to conscious thought. That was troubling. I hadn’t faced that kind of difficulty in my dreams since I first arrived in Thedas.

Disregarding my boots, I quietly padded across the wooden floor. I was still in my travel clothes from earlier, so barefoot, I went downstairs. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for or even hoping for, but I needed a distraction. Mercifully, people were still downstairs, drinking and eating. Suddenly my stomach grumbled and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast that morning which I had lost earlier that day on the platform in the market. Gripping my complaining stomach, I made my way to the barkeep, hoping he still had food to sell this late at night.

“My Lady?” came a familiar voice and I spun to find Cillian getting up from his seat at a table nearby. “I thought you went to bed. Are you alright?”

I smiled at him warmly and joined him at his table. He would serve as a much better distraction than food. “Good evening, Cillian. I couldn’t sleep. May I join you?” I asked, waving my hand at a chair next to him.

“O-of course,” he said, pulling out the chair for me.

I thanked him and sat down. “I’m surprised you’re still up. Isn’t it late?”

“Cassandra wanted to wait for Maxwell to come back from the party, but she was tired, so I offered to wait up for him.”

My heart clenched at the thought of Maxwell and how the fear demon had tried to portray him in my nightmare. I tried to not show the reaction on my face and smiled at him again. “That was nice of you.”

His lips twitched in a returning smile that wasn’t quite a smile and he picked at his bread distractedly. Suddenly my stomach growled loudly and he looked up, surprised at the noise. “Right. You probably haven’t eaten. It isn’t much and is probably stale now, but here,” he said lifting his plate with two additional rolls on it.

“Thanks,” I said, sheepishly and grabbed a roll. It tasted like it had been made just that morning and growing up with bread that came from a bag, the roll tasted and felt heavenly. I groaned into the bite, relishing the feeling of my sour stomach being sated.

“Are you alright?” I finally asked after watching him pick at his bread for five minutes.

His gaze shifted to mine then looked back down. “When I was assigned to you, Commander Rutherford told me about your ‘sight’ and the real reason you were accompanying the Herald.” He looked back up at me again. “He warned me to guard you with my life and that I was to not let anyone know of your true purpose.” He sighed and dropped the bread in disgust. “I failed so miserably today. I stood stunned when you had your vision each time. I wasn’t sure what to do, but the Herald was always the first there to make sure you were okay. _I_ should have been doing that. Then when you ran off, I stared dumbly while a templar _struck_ you,” he voice rose momentarily, but he calmed himself, looking around the room at the other late-night patrons. “Now everyone will know by morning what you can see and I already couldn’t protect you _before_.” He put his head in his hands. “The Commander is going to _kill_ me!”

My heart twisted when I thought of how _my_ choices affected everyone. I had most likely taken Maxwell’s choice away in going to the templars later and if he had more family in the order, did that mean I had just doomed them all to become blighted abominations? For Cillian, everything I did today probably felt like an impossible test. We both knew that he needed to be more prepared, more steady, but I wondered if I also taught him that he couldn’t trust me to act on my own. Cillian had become someone whose presence I enjoyed, someone I felt like I could come to trust. I didn’t want Cullen to replace him or for Cillian to resign from his duties when we returned... 

I put my hand on his arm and waited for him to lift his head. “You didn’t fail me, Cillian. I acted on my own. Rashly. What happened today was entirely my own doing. Cullen can be angry with me for all that, but I won’t let him be angry with you.”

“Really?” he asked, looking so young and innocent.

I smiled at him, trying to be reassuring. “I promise.”

Suddenly the room became quiet, the only sound being the hushed whispers of the other patrons. Maxwell had returned looking very tired. When his eyes landed on me he looked surprised at first, but smiled warmly as he approached. I felt my heart clench again at seeing him walking forward and my eyes dropped to his belt and his dagger there. 

My brow furrowed as I caught sight of it; it wasn’t the same dagger. It was of a completely different design than the one in my dream and suddenly I realized that this was the dagger I had always seen him with. Finding that small inconsistency from my dream grounded me and I looked up and smiled back, but found Maxwell looking down at himself, worried at my scrutiny.

When he arrived at our table he leaned over it towards me and whispered, “I didn’t spill wine on myself did I?” He picked up Cillian’s proffered goblet with a nod and took a drink.

I chuckled and shook my head. “None that I can see, my Lord.”

His face scrunched up and he choked on the wine slightly. “Do you have to call me that?”

“Do _you_ have to call me my Lady?” I pressed, returning to our last conversation.

“That’s fair,” he said sourly, sitting down on the other side of Cillian, across from me.

“How did it go?” I asked.

He smirked. “Just as you said, _my Lady_.” I narrowed my eyes at him, but my response was cut off before I could open my mouth.

“My Lord, with your permission,” said Cillian, standing and looking tired. We both looked up at him. He looked so dutiful and yet so shy in the Herald's presence. The tiredness and sudden humility around Maxwell made him appear incredibly boyish to me all of a sudden. 

Maxwell nodded slowly and raised his goblet to him in thanks again. Cillian knocked his fist to his chest and bowed before departing. He watched him go and then looked around the room to find the patrons either discreetly or openly staring. He sighed. “The Herald and his Prophet… My what a pair we make.”

“And his what?”

“Oh you haven’t heard yet? Val Royeaux is just _abuzz_ with rumors of the Prophet who protects the Herald and Chantry Mothers alike.”

I groaned and put my head in my hands. “That was fast.”

“Yup,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ sound loudly and sipping on the rest of Cillian’s abandoned wine. He looked at me closely from over the top of the goblet. He put it back down on the table and folded his hands together, resting his chin on his fists. “I’m surprised to see you still up.”

“I already slept,” I replied with a shrug.

“That must have been only a few hours.”

“That's all I usually need.”

Concern came over his face again. “Sophie…” he started softly, but in a tone that told me he wanted to admonish me.

I put my hand up. “I’m _fine_.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately…”

“Because it’s _true_.”

“But it doesn’t look it,” he pressed. He sat back in his chair and looked away before looking back at me with a sigh, a movement I was coming to know very well. It meant that I was frustrating him and he wasn’t sure how to approach it. “You look tired.” Blunt honestly it is. “You’re not used to traveling and today was a very difficult day. Those visions are taking a lot out of you. You should be resting. Maker knows _I_ need it.”

“Then get it,” I said bitterly before I could stop myself. I was just so frustrated with how everyone was suddenly so damned concerned over my visions. I amped up the dramatics because I thought it would be the easiest way to get their attention, but now all of this was more troublesome than it seemed to be worth. I _was_ tired, but I was tired over having to keep up the lies and constantly defend my actions and my health to everyone. I was frustrated, sure, but I immediately regretted it when Maxwell’s eyebrows knit together in a pained expression. 

“Sophie…” he started, but I had already started down this path and I realized that I needed to see it through. Maxwell was getting too close. He was starting to become more involved in my life and my well being, but the greatest danger was that I was tempted to let him. I couldn’t do that. 

I forced myself to keep going. “Maxwell, I’m not a child.”

“I never said--”

I interrupted him, leaning forward. “I understand that when it comes to physical threats to my person that I am woefully unprepared to deal with it and need protection, but that does not extend to every other aspect of my life.”

Maxwell opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. Instead, he turned his head slightly, staring at me sideways and slowly a mischievous-looking grin appeared on his face. “Maker, Sophie…” he said, his voice taking on a different tone. “So _cranky_.”

I blinked. His demeanor had changed on a dime. He was concerned, then pained, then he suddenly looked roguish… 

It was playful, I realized. He was taking on a playful tone - or at least trying to. I stamped down my impulse to yell at him, to fight back. Inwardly I sighed. Perhaps he was right in trying to change the tone of the conversation. Perhaps I _was_ being too cranky. It had been a difficult day, but he didn’t deserve my anger. That should have been reserved for myself.

I smirked - or at least tried to - and chuckled. “Ass…” It was said in a light tone, trying to match him. A white flag. A truce. He smiled down in a disarming way and I could feel my own frustrations falling to a low simmer again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

Maxwell stood momentarily to shift his weight around the corner of the table and take up Cillian’s vacated seat. He leaned his right arm against the table, blocking most of the patrons’ views of us. “What exactly _were_ you trying to take out on me?”

I sighed and looked away. “It’s nothing, I’m fi--”

“Ah ah ah,” he said, interrupting me. “I don’t want to hear that word anymore. It’s our new F-word,” he said waving a hand between us, “and it’s no longer allowed.”

“Excuse me? _Allowed_?” I tried to sound lighthearted still, but I couldn’t help the irritation at his attempt to take charge again.

“Fine never _means_ fine, especially not with you.”

I glared at him for a moment before I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I just don’t like sleeping much…”

And the look I was worried about seeing came across his face. Concern. Fear. He leaned forward more so he could whisper. “Why?”

“I haven’t really liked sleeping for a while now,” I said with a sour face.

“Is it because of the Fade?” I was taken aback that I completely forgot about how people were connecting my visions to the Fade and its effects on me. He probably thought I was suffering from nightmares. I didn’t want anyone to think that - even if it _was_ somewhat true. I sighed, realizing I would have to tell him _something_ of the actual truth about my aversion to sleep.

I shook my head. “It’s been a lot longer than that.” I looked back to find his concerned eyes searching mine. “It’s just that I’ve done a lot more sleeping in the last two years than I wanted.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows dipping low on his forehead in confusion. “I don’t understand, Sophie. What happened in the last two years?”

“It was almost two years ago that I was attacked and didn’t wake up until about three months ago,” I said looking down hard at the table. I didn’t want to see what I knew his reaction would be.

Maxwell was silent for what felt like minutes. “So, you’ve been asleep for nearly half of the war? What happened?” he asked softly, still in a whisper.

I shook my head and laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t even remember,” I said looking back up at him. I saw recognition and sympathy cross his eyes before he reached out with a hand then stopped, uncertain. I stared at his hand lying awkwardly in the middle of the table like it was ‘no man’s land.’ I don't know why, but I decided to keep going. “I was asleep for over a year. I woke up almost three months ago now. I still have no memory of that night that I...” I looked up at him again. “So yeah... I don’t like sleeping much.”

Maxwell’s face looked pained again. I knew that he understood exactly what it felt like to struggle with remembering the details that clearly led up to one's life changing drastically. For me, its happened _twice_. His hand twitched out further, wanting to cross the space between us, and suddenly, I was finding my hand twitching too, wanting comfort. He knew how I felt and I knew he would understand that frustration. But this was allowing myself too much and I grew frustrated for telling him about my life from _before_.

The truce I had struck with myself when I first arrived was tenuous at best and I could feel the other part of myself - the part desperate to go back home and consider all of this a bad dream, the part that wanted to see Jack again, the part that still struggled to get over my most recent dream - was beginning to rage again. 

I needed his help to gain access to the Fade. That was all. He needed to _believe_ we were friends. To trust me. I told myself that was why I was telling him all this. Why else did I take a risk telling him about my real life? I looked away from his expression and busied my hand by running it through my hair in frustration before letting my head rest against my palm. “Sophie, I… don’t know what to say…”

“That’s not why I told you.”

He sighed. “I know, but I just wish I could help you.”

“I didn’t tell you so you can help me or try to keep protecting me, Maxwell. I told you because I wanted you to understand that, yes, I’ve been through a lot, and, yes, I’m still working through a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak or broken. It means that I’ve faced pain and fear and _many_ mistakes before, but I’ve learned from it, grown stronger. I don’t need you to keep trying to protect me from my own pain.” 

And just like that our earlier truce was broken.

Maxwell pulled his hand into his lap, looked away and sighed again in his signature ‘Dammit, Sophie’ move. This time I didn’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t. I returned his look with a steady gaze, challenging him. He sighed again and pushed himself up from the table. “I’m going to bed.”

He didn’t make another move and we stayed like that staring at each other for a few moments before I let my frustration boil over again. “Well?” I asked spitefully, wondering why he was still standing there.

He held out his arm to beckon towards the stairs. “You’re not staying down here by yourself. If you don’t want to sleep, don’t. But you need to stay in your room because I don’t _care_ if you don’t want me protecting you or not. The truth is - and you said it yourself this evening - you are _woefully_ unprepared when it comes to protecting yourself. So I’m going to bed and that means you’re going to.” I glared at him in challenge for a few moments. “Sophia!” he half shouted, half whispered, trying to avoid a scene in front of the others sitting nearby.

It was in vain because my actions definitely caused a scene.

I stood, letting the chair scrape loudly across the floor. “Oh my--” I wanted to say ‘God’ but I stopped myself. Instead I settled for a more familiar form of blasphemy. “Andraste’s _tits_ , Maxwell, you’re impossible!” And knowing full well I was behaving like a child, I stomped upstairs.

* * *

I managed to get a couple more hours of dreamless sleep before the sun rose over the rooftops and shone directly in our window, waking us both. I could hear Cassandra shuffling in her bed before getting up and getting dressed. I stayed in bed, lying on my back, and stared up at the ceiling. After getting some more sleep and reflecting on last night, I was beginning to feel badly about how I had treated Maxwell. Since that first meeting in the chantry, I knew he would be problematic to my plans in a very different way than the others. He genuinely _wanted_ to trust me and get to know me. He _wanted_ to be my friend. Last night, when I had realized just how true this was, all kinds of alarm bells went off in my head. He couldn’t ever get to know me. Not the real me. He wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t believe it.

The part of me that has been lonely for the past month was desperate for companionship, but there was still the realist in me that kept pulling me back from the edge. That little voice would bitterly remind me that this wasn’t my world and that I didn’t belong here. The longer I stayed, the more remote my chances of going back home appeared. Maxwell was one of the first people I felt like I had truly connected with. Everyone else, including Beatris and Lysette, did not have the same effect.

I needed to keep him at arm’s length. Perhaps that meant using the level of decorum we both despised. I didn’t have to be his friend, but I could still at least treat him with respect. Last night, I did not, and it was beginning to eat at me.

There was a knock at the door and I lifted my head to notice that Cassandra had already left. I figured it would have to be Solas coming to check up on me - and for once I was actually eager to see him, having decided last night to tell him more about my dreams. Not the part with how he’d had an unsettling appearance in them, but how they were beginning to torment me more than they had before. When we first discussed it back at Haven, I felt uncomfortable with lying about them even then. What if I _did_ run the risk of possession? My dreams were getting worse, and last night I was less lucid than I had grown accustomed to.

Another knock broke me from my thoughts. Realizing I had gotten lost in another reverie, I sat up and called, “Come in.”

It was not Solas.

Maxwell strolled in with a platter of fruit and cheese, smiling sheepishly. “Hi,” he said softly from the door.

“Hey,” I replied, feeling equally awkward and embarrassed. He walked in and placed the platter on a small table in between the two beds. While he did this I bit the inside of my cheek trying to think about how to best handle this situation. I needed to fix things with Maxwell but figure out how to maintain a distance. I would have to be constantly on guard around him. Becoming his friend would be too easy, almost natural. My fear over changing too much of the timeline, my guilt over lying to everyone, and most importantly my desire to go back home would make it impossible to truly be myself around any of them. But somehow Maxwell just knew how to get beneath all that armor. It was terrifying.

He turned to me with a handkerchief full of grapes and cheese. “Truce?”

I sighed and took the silk from his hand and laid it across my lap. I picked up a white piece of cheese covered in rind and quickly popped it into my mouth, observing him carefully. As the taste melted across my tongue, I stopped chewing, closed my eyes, and bit back a groan of pleasure when I realized that this cheese must have been an Orlesian equivalent of brie - one of my favorite cheeses.

Maxwell must have interpreted it as faint disgust because suddenly he was reaching for the pitcher of water that was left on the table. He poured some into a small wooden cup and offered it with a worried look and a mumbled, “Sorry. If you don’t like it--.”

I took the cup with a smirk and shook my head. I finished chewing and washed it down with a sip of water. “No, it was delicious.”

“Oh, good. Its an Orlesian delicacy, but not everyone likes it.”

I popped another piece in my mouth and chased it with a grape and actually groaned out loud this time with my eyes closed. When I opened them again, Maxwell was visibly more relaxed and looking at me with an amused grin. “I accept your peace offering,” I said holding out my hand, palm up, and flexing my fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion. 

Maxwell chuckled and grabbed the rest of the cheese, split the larger chunk in half to share between us. I tore off pieces and ate quickly, suddenly feeling very hungry. Maxwell just nibbled on his piece before placing his breakfast in his lap. “I’m sorry about last night, Sophia. You were right. You’re a grown woman and don’t need anyone to be your keeper. You are not a ward of the Inquisition but a willing member, and I should not have been so overbearing towards you.”

I swallowed hard and tried to wash out the suddenly thick and cloying texture with another sip of water. He had made the first move towards reconciliation, making it easier on me, but also much, much more difficult. If only the bastard wasn’t so goddamned charming. I cleared my throat before responding. “I understand why you were worried, and I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ever worry, but there are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. You’re not my brother, nor my husband…” I actually wanted to say friend too, but I couldn’t bring myself to include that in the list even though I knew deep down that I should have. I perhaps needed him to _think_ we were becoming friends, but I could still keep _my_ self - my true self - at a distance. “There is a difference between worrying for a companion you travel with and trying to insert yourself in my life completely.”

Maxwell actually winced as I brought up boundaries. “You’re right, of course. And I apologize. I do not mean to take the place of anyone in your life. It’s just… I am not used to having many positive relationships in my life. The only real bright spot in my childhood was my sister, Evie. I suppose I just saw a lot of her in you and I got overprotective. I didn’t realize I was even doing it until I thought back on last night. I will endeavor to respect your boundaries from here on out.”

A knot grew in my chest when Maxwell tried to explain himself. He had revealed more about his family, but it did not seem to be a happy upbringing for him. He was opening up, letting me in. A part of me wished that I could too, but again that voice warned me to be careful around him. I sighed. “I also apologize for being so terrible to you last night. You did not deserve it and it was unworthy of me.”

Maxwell chuckled. “It _was_ quite the sight for people to see the newly named Prophet of Andraste blaspheming so openly before stomping barefoot upstairs.”

I felt my cheeks heat up in a blush when I replayed in my mind how I had acted last night. “I can’t believe I said that…” groaning into my hands.

“I shudder to think what the reports will say when poor Josephine reads them.”

“Oh no…” I said, going pale. “How are we going to explain this to them?”

Maxwell shrugged. “You can’t control when and how you get your visions, and you did the right thing in protecting the Revered Mother. Fortunately, word will reach them much faster than we will. Hopefully that will give them time to think and see how your actions may have actually been for the better.”

I grimaced. “I’m not sure if I’ve even helped anything. What if the Templars refuse to help us now? After what I said to Lucius, I doubt he will be entertaining any charitable impulse towards the Inquisition.”

Maxwell shrugged. “If the templars are being led by a man such as Lucius Corin, then we don’t need them. We’ll go to the mages. I already received an invitation from Grand Enchanter Fiona to discuss it.” At the distinct lack of surprise on my face, Maxwell’s gaze became suspicious. “You already knew that didn’t you?”

“I saw her poking around the market.”

“When?”

“Just before she went to find you.”

He knew I was being evasive. “And before _then_?” My response was only a shrug. “You’re a bad liar,” he responded after eyeing me for a few moments. I looked away from him. If only he knew how wrong he was, but I suppose there couldn’t be any harm in letting him believe that about me. After all, the evidence certainly pointed to that conclusion. Leliana had expressly told me not to reveal my purpose and ability, and on the very first outing, I had messed that up because I couldn’t control myself when having visions. Letting them assume I was a terrible liar may in fact keep them from realizing that _all of this_ was actually a lie.

“‘Terrible Liar…’ Leliana will carve that on my gravestone,” I said sourly.

Maxwell shook his head. “I’m the one who told the Mothers… and Cassandra too for that matter. Out of the three of us you are the most blameless.” That actually gave me a small amount of comfort, but also a tremendous guilt. I couldn’t seem to avoid causing unnecessary problems for everyone else around me.


	14. A Slight Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces Sera ;)  
> But Sophia also learns that she may have changed more than she was aware of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: For Graphic Depictions of Violence  
> This chapter also switched the POV to Maxwell which will also shift to limited third person - I've marked it in the chapter in case it causes confusion.

True to his word, today was a day of rest and sightseeing. After breakfast, I realized that Solas had already gone, so I decided our discussion would have to wait until later. In the meantime, Maxwell took me to see Val Royeaux with Cillian tagging along as well. At first Maxwell told him that he didn’t have to, but Cillian was adamant about staying with me today. I think a part of him still felt guilty that Maxwell always seemed to be the one who was right there when he felt that it should have been him.

I was hoping he would show me the Grand Cathedral and White Spire as I loved seeing grand architecture that was so full of history, but I think Maxwell avoided those places due to our current nebulous relationship with the Chantry. I suppose it would have been considered brazen to waltz into the Grand Cathedral while some still questioned our motives.

So instead we travelled to all the different districts both within Val Royeaux proper and surrounding the water's edge. Maxwell encouraged me to use some of my newly earned salary and buy something for myself, but I had no idea what to even get. I thought about Haven and what I could possibly need. It was cold, so maybe some warmer overcoats? Josephine had already procured some for me, but having more couldn’t hurt right? But again, I already had some, so what did I actually _need_? Any luxuries I bought would only be temporary as I doubt I’d take them with me when I finally returned home.

I thought about my work as a healer. The mortar I had borrowed from Adan was fine, but it was clearly a cast off he didn’t use because the bowl was too small to produce any useful quantities. I also thought of other things that Haven was lacking. A reasonable quantity of soap for one. I could easily make my own soap with lye, some fats, and various oils. Additionally, people in Haven were beginning to come seek me out personally during the day for advice or remedies, so perhaps stocking up on my own supplies would be a good idea.

One market seemed to have just what I needed and I bought some clean linen both loosely and tightly woven for bandages and some leather strips that I could use for binding or tourniquets. Then I found a shop that had nearly everything I needed for soap except lye, but the shopkeeper pointed me towards the nearest laundress.

Maxwell looked at me confused when I walked out stuffing the supplies in my bag. “What is all _that_ for?”

“Its supplies for back at Haven,” I said rolling up the cloth more tightly to fit into my bag.

“For _what_?”

“For healing,” I replied matter-of-factly. What did he think it was for?

“Maker, Sophie, I hope you didn’t spend your own money on all that…” he said shaking his head.

“What would I buy it with then?”

“Inquisition credit.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to feel more indebted to the Inquisition than I had to. And besides, it’s not like I can take this money back home with me and any other luxuries would only be temporary anyway. “I’m not using Inquisition credit for myself, Maxwell…”

“Were you planning on striking out from Haven and taking your healing services elsewhere?”

What kind of question was that? I looked at him suspiciously. “No…”

“Then it serves the Inquisition and should have gone on Josephine’s line of credit.”

“Oh…” That actually made sense. But then what _can_ I spend my money on that would be worthwhile?

He sighed. “I’ll tell Josephine and perhaps she can refund you when we get back.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need her to refund me. If she’s willing to add to my supplies then I’ll request them from her directly from now on, but I don’t need her to repay me for these.”

“If you say so… So what is something you actually _want_?” he asked, trying to help me.

I thought back to Haven and my new cabin. It had everything I needed. I had a place to put my clothes and my supplies, I had a place to eat and study, I had a place to sleep -- then I remembered my bed. The bed itself was pretty sturdy, but the mattress seemed more suited for the floor than an actual bed.

“I suppose I could use a better mattress to sleep on?” I said it as a question, uncertain. I didn’t know how much things like that would actually cost.

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “The one in your cabin isn’t suitable?”

I described the mattress and how it felt sleeping on it that first night and how by morning I could feel all the wooden slats beneath the mattress. He narrowed his eyes while I described it to him. “They put a _bedroll_ on your bed?”

Now that I thought about it, it was just like the bedroll I had been using during the trip here. So it _was_ meant to be used on the floor or ground. “Oh. I suppose it is a bedroll isn’t it?”

He shook his head, heading for the bridge that would lead into Val Royeaux proper. “We’ll have to fix that soon. Come, we’ll purchase you a new bed, but it will go on Inquisition credit too.”

I stopped and shook my head. “Maxwell, no… I don’t want to keep asking for things of the Inquisition.”

Maxwell turned and walked back towards where I stood. “The thing is, Sophie, you haven’t actually asked for _anything_ yet. In fact, you’ve fought Josephine every time she even tried to give you anything.”

“I don’t want to ask for things like a _new bed_ when others in Haven sleep in the dirt.”

Maxwell sighed and looked away again - his ‘Dammit Sophie’ move. He put his hands on his hips and looked back at me. “They’re not _you_ , Sophie. They’re not as important to the Inquisition.”

I looked at him shocked. I couldn’t believe he was actually saying this… “They’re _people_ , Max! Of course they’re important!”

At first he gave me a weird look at my shortened use of his name, but then he sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “That is not what I meant. You _know_ what I meant.”

“The salary I can understand. I’ve actually _worked_ for it. But the cabin, the line of credit, this is all too much. I didn’t _earn_ any of this!”

His gaze finally softened. “Of course you have. You’ve earned off of it. Your abilities--” He paused and put up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “Not even including the ones you wish you didn’t have, make you invaluable.”

“Oh really? If not _that_ ability or even the healing, then what? What else do I even offer?”

He moved his hand towards me and I watched him warily. He hesitated a moment before tapping the side of my head gently with two fingers. “Your mind, Sophia. It…” he paused, trying to find the words. “You don’t think like anyone else here does. Even if you didn’t have your…” he paused again, looking around before realizing with a sigh that it was too late for secrecy, “visions, your mind sees the world in a way that many people do not. Our argument right now is a testament to that. I trust you and I value what you have to say.”

If he truly valued what I had to say then maybe I could use that to push the argument. “Then why--”

“But,” he interrupted. “I won’t budge on this. I don’t want you using your hard earned coin on things that Josephine can procure for you and honestly _should_ have been provided in the first place. Besides, when you use the line of credit especially on items like furniture, you are cementing your position as a high ranking member of the Inquisition in the eyes of Val Royeaux and ultimately Orlesian society, and now with people calling you a prophet, Josephine can use that later when negotiating on the Inquisition’s behalf.”

“I… I hadn’t thought of that…” It was all part of the Game. Even what I _purchased_ would be scrutinized…

Maxwell chuckled. “I will continue to listen and value your perspective, but please--” he said, dipping down at the knees slightly to catch my downcast eyes. “Please _try_ to listen to mine?”

I nodded lamely. It was a terrible feeling knowing so many significant things about Thedas while also feeling completely clueless when it came to the nuances of society in general.

* * *

POV Change - Limited Third Person Maxwell:

Later that night Maxwell followed the clues to a villa belonging to a minor house near the shore north of the city proper. The villa was difficult to get to as it seemed to be accessible either through the heavily guarded front entrance or through a series of alleyways that led to a secluded courtyard in the back - a courtyard behind a locked door to which he happened to have the key. The four stalked through the dark alleys, but Maxwell flinched every time Cassandra’s heavy boots thudded and clinked against the stone. He wasn’t so sure they could exactly enter stealthily.

As Maxwell turned a corner, he noticed two guards standing in front of a gate that must had led into the secluded courtyard, and as he had feared, Cassandra’s heavy armor gave their position away. “It’s the Inquisition!” called one of the guards, drawing his sword and running forward.

“Well,” said Maxwell drawing his daggers, “They know who I work for…” When Cassandra lunged forward, blocking the guard’s attacks, Maxwell dropped into stealth and snuck behind the other guard who hung back to use his bow. The man never noticed Maxwell as he slipped behind him and slit his throat.

Varric shot a crossbow bolt past Cassandra’s head and it buried into the chest of the other guard who crumpled to the ground with a loud thud. He walked up to the dead guard and pulled the bolt from his chest, wiping it off on his pants. “Think the others know we’re here yet?” he asked, nodding his head to the closed door that led into the courtyard.

“Only one way to find out,” replied Maxwell, unlocking the door quietly and then leaned against it, using his body to press it open slowly. As the door opened and he peeked inside and then ducked quickly to avoid a fireball aimed at his head.

“Herald of Andraste! I _knew_ your little witch would send you for me eventually, but no matter. You coming here now will only make it easier to take care of both nuisances tonight!”

Maxwell grew cold. “What nuisances?” he asked darkly.

“As we speak--”

They were both interrupted by a loud crash and the sound of his bodyguard crying out. A dirty-looking elf rolled down the stairs and into a kneeling position, her bow at the ready. “Just say what…” she said in a threatening tone.

“What is the--” protested the noble but he was cut off when an arrow pierced through his eye.

Maxwell stood stunned as the elf got to her feet, walked over to the now dead noble and pulled the arrow from his eye socket with a loud squelch. “Ugh… Squishy one, but you heard me right,” she said shaking it hard twice as if to shake off the gore with a few simple swings. “‘Just say what!’” she repeated with a snicker. “Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. ‘Blah, blah, blah. Obey me! Arrow in my face!’" she said animatedly swinging the arrow around. Then the paused and turned to Maxwell, returning the arrow to her quiver. "So… you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re…” she paused, looking at him more closely. A look of disappointment coming across her face. “You’re kind of plain, really. All that talk and you’re just… a _person_. I mean it’s all good, innit? The important thing is you glow. You’re the Herald-thingy?”

Maxwell was still too stunned over how everything had happened. He looked down at the dead noble and the messy-looking elf in front of him and shook his head. “I was questioning him! Who the bloody hell are _you_ and what was this man’s game?”

Sera shrugged, unphased. “No idea. I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at ‘im.”

“Your people? The elves?”

She laughed derisively in response. Nearby there were shouts coming from inside the villa. “Uh, no! _People_ people. Name’s Sera. This here is cover,” she said pointing to some crates nearby. “Get ‘round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches!”

The doors to the villa slammed open and twelve armed guards burst into the courtyard wearing nothing but smalls from the waist down. Maxwell grabbed his daggers and glared at the laughing Sera who was already firing on them. “Why didn’t you take their weapons?!” he shouted, dropping into stealth.

“Ba ha ha ha! Because… no breeches!” she wheezed, firing into the crowd as they poured out into the courtyard. Even in her laughing state, she still managed to kill three guards.

Varric shot a guard through the chest who was already making his way down the steps into the courtyard. “This must be what Lucky meant by unconventional,” he grumbled as he aimed for another shot.

Before the guards even reached the party, Sera and Varric had already reduced half their number, so Cassandra only faced down six. The first guard who approached her was sent flying with a shield bash. Maxwell appeared behind the guard who brought up the back and plunged both daggers into the base of his neck at the shoulders. Solas froze one of the men solid and then promptly shattered him with a large stone fist he summoned from the Fade. They were dealt with quickly and efficiently and Maxwell was impressed by Sera’s speed and accuracy, but he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling of what the noble had said.

When the last guard fell, Sera turned back to the group, excited. “Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!”

Her giggle was cut off by Maxwell. “Was this a setup? That man _knew_ we were coming. How did he find out?”

“Piss if I know. All I know is some big person talked too much around a little person who was kicked around one too many times and that little person then told the _right_ people about it.”

Varric leaned towards Cassandra. “Did that make sense to you?”

“Vaguely…” replied Cassandra sourly.

“Did your people tip him off?”

“No! My people would never help those greedy gits!”

“Then how--!”

Cassandra gasped softly and Maxwell turned to face her. “Do you think the ‘witch’ he mentioned meant Sophia?”

Maxwell paled, but Varric spoke up. “Shit! Word spread pretty quickly about the Herald’s prophet. What if he thought she saw what he was planning too?”

“She _did_ see him,” replied Solas gravely. He looked at Maxwell with a worried expression. “But Herald, she cannot see herself in her visions.”

“Wut visions?” asked Sera, but Maxwell spun on his heel and ran for the alleyways again. Cassandra, Solas, and Varric were quick to join him.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” called Sera after them.

“To the Sleeping Lion!” called Maxwell over his shoulder.

Sera pouted as she watched them run off. “I ain’t done yet…” She sighed and ran after them.

* * *

POV Change - First Person Sophia:

One aspect of Val Royeaux that I had to admit was pretty damn amazing was their food. Since Maxwell kept making me use credit for most of the things I wanted to buy, I still had a fair amount of coin left, so I decided to splurge for dinner. The Sleeping Lion managed to have a pretty decent menu so Cillian and I ate seared duck breast and creamy roasted potatoes for dinner. Cillian refused to drink while he was ‘on duty’ - which was all the time - so I decided to abstain as well.

He took a slow bite, savoring the taste. I could tell he really enjoyed it and had probably not had a meal like this often - if ever. He looked up and saw me watching him and ducked his head with a blush. “Thank you, my Lady, but you really didn’t have to buy me a plate as well.”

I gave him a surprised, but amused look, tilting my head to the side. “I wasn’t going to sit here and eat this in front of you…”

He wiped the grease off of his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m no noble, my Lady. It's fine if you wish to eat in my presence. It’s my duty to stay with you and guard you. You do not have to feed me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him with incredulity. He really thought I would eat dinner in front of him and expect him to just _watch_? I really hated Thedas sometimes, but I suppose that was normal for relationships like ours - the bodyguard and the guarded - and that too was normal even in my society. I just didn’t want to have that kind of relationship, so I put my fork down and leveled him with a look that I hoped mirrored Maxwell’s when he tried to portray that he would suffer no arguments. “Cillian I’m not a noble either. Now if my position in the Inquisition demands that you treat me with deference, then that's fine, but no position in the Inquisition can suddenly grant me nobility and I won’t take advantage of my position in that way. You and I are both just common folk and even if you are tasked to protect me, that doesn’t mean you’re my servant.”

Cillian smiled warmly but shyly, nodding. “Alright, Lady Sophia, but I seriously doubt there is anything ‘common’ about you.”

I narrowed a single eye at him, but picked up my fork. Cillian mimicked my actions and soon we were eating in amiable silence again.

When we finished, we continued to sit at the table, waiting for the others to return. I was hoping to see Sera with them and get to meet her. I looked back to Cillian who swept his gaze over the patrons again. Once word spread about what I did yesterday, many began staring at and whispering about me. It put us both ill at ease, but fortunately Lysette’s lessons helped calm me. I had to learn to discern the difference between attention and a threat. Right now I was receiving a lot of unwanted attention, but no one really seemed to be a threat. Nevertheless, all the new attention made Cillian constantly alert.

I tried to start a conversation with him. “So, Cillian, where are you from?”

He peeled his eyes off the patrons reluctantly. “My family owns a farm outside of Ansburg.”

“That’s a long way. How did you end up in the Inquisition?”

His gaze darkened for a moment and he looked away. I was about to apologize for bringing it up, but he spoke then. “When the Circles fell many templars left their posts to go after the mages. We didn’t know it at the time, but my sister had fallen in love with a mage from Ostwick Circle. She was hiding him on our farm. When the templars came after him… they burned down the barn where she tried to hide him. They both died.”

I gasped softly and reached across the table to pat his hand. He jumped slightly and pulled his hands back when I did, so I pulled back apologetically. “I’m sorry Cillian…”

He smiled nervously and placed his hands back on the table immediately in front of him. “The thing was, both of them would have never hurt anyone. The mage was a _healer_. He never raised his voice or hand to anyone in anger from what I heard of him. My sister was the same. But they killed them anyways.”

“So you joined the Inquisition for her…”

He shrugged. “We all have a similar story. This war hurts everyone, and so when I heard that the Divine was murdered and her Right and Left Hand recreated the Inquisition to bring back peace, I joined.”

The front entrance to the inn slammed loudly and Cillian and I both looked up, hoping to see Maxwell and his companions. Instead we saw two men enter the room, scan the patrons - including us - and walk up to the barkeep.

I turned my attention back to Cillian. “I suppose we do all have a similar story…”

“None like yours and the Herald’s though,” he said raising his cup.

I chuckled darkly in response and glanced back over towards the men who were still leaning against the bar. One seemed to scan the crowd again - for the third time I’d noticed - but when his eyes met mine, he stiffened and turned back to his friend.

I felt… decidedly uncomfortable by that. I remembered Lysette’s lessons. Rule one was to be observant and not doubt my gut when I felt uncomfortable. Rule two, was to tell someone better equipped to deal with it.

“Hey, Cillian…?” I started, not taking my eyes off the pair now.

“I saw,” he replied in a low voice. I turned to him and noticed he was watching them too, but in a more discreet way. I remembered Lysette’s advice about looking with my eyes and not my whole face so I kept facing Cillian, but let my eyes slip to the two from time to time. I also scanned the rest of the room. The rest of the patrons seemed completely oblivious. I noticed that there were two possible escape routes, one being the stairs towards the bedrooms and the other being the backdoor just barely visible through the storeroom entryway on the other side of the room. I turned back to Cillian who leaned back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed, but I could see his feet planted firmly and his hand moving to his opposite hip, ready to draw his weapon if needed. “When I say…” he began.

Lysette’s rule number three: “Run,” I replied, nodding.

He tensed when one of the men moved towards the front entrance again and the other seemed to be slowly, nonchalantly making his way through the tables. When he was about six feet from us, his eyes slipped towards me again and his hand moved to his waist. That was enough for Cillian who stood immediately, knocking his chair out from under him and his sword already in hand. “Sophia, go!” he shouted, but I was already running.

I made first for the stairs, but the second man sprinted from the door and when I realized he’d make it there first, I skidded to a halt, pushing a nearby chair into his path, and ran for the storeroom. With a rush, I realized I’d be able to make it. I threw open the back door and slammed right into the chest of another man who was dressed similarly to the other two. Behind him two other men laughed as he gripped my arms tightly, turned me around, and marched me back inside the inn.

Cillian had managed to knock the other man down. Whether he was unconscious or dead, I couldn’t tell, but now he was grappling with the second, his back across one of the tables and his sword discarded on the floor. The other man was on top of him with his hands around his neck, but Cillian let go of one of his arms in order to pull back and slam his fist hard into his face. The man reeled back and Cillian leapt off the table and picked up his discarded sword.

“That’s enough!” bellowed the man who was holding me. I saw several patrons gasp in fear from the sides of the room as the man shifted behind me. His left arm moved to drape across my chest, holding me against him and the other hand left my arm, only to return holding a knife against my neck. “Put that back down before I spill her blood all over the floor.”

Cillian angrily threw his sword to the ground and held up his hands. “What do you want?” The second man he had been fighting with went to join the other three standing behind me. Cillian’s angry gaze followed him.

“We want her,” he said, pushing his chest into me and making me stumble forward. I hissed as the cold blade kissed my neck briefly.

“Hey!” called Cillian, drawing their attention back to him. “You don’t have to hurt her. We can talk about this.”

The man holding me laughed harshly. “See, I don’t think that’s possible,” he said, taking a step back. I stumbled, trying to keep my feet moving with him. “If this witch here can really see the future, then our boss wants her out of the picture.”

“Don’t you dare!” he shouted, taking a step forward.

“Cillian!” I cried, feeling the blade bite into my neck. I felt a burning and then a tickling across my skin and I knew I was bleeding.

Cillian stopped abruptly and looked very pale. Then I saw his eyes dart behind us and a familiar voice shout, “Solas _now_!” Suddenly the warm body behind me turned extremely cold and hard. I looked down and saw that his arm was hardened and slightly shimmering in the firelight of the inn. Was that _ice_?

I heard screaming behind me and more shouts of familiar voices. I was still held tightly within the man’s embrace and couldn’t move. Cillian picked up his weapon and reached me in two long strides. He lifted his sword and brought it down hilt first to slam into the arm holding the knife against my neck… and it _snapped off_. He repeated the motion with the other arm and I stood there stunned, trying to figure out what had just happened. 

Cillian grabbed my hand and pulled me to his side. The warmth of his body was a shock after the cold and I wrapped my arms around his waist pressing into his side and looking back at the man who had tried to kill me. He stood the same as before with an awful smirk on his face, but his arms were now gone and scattered on the floor. He could have looked like an ancient statue except for beneath the ice, I could still see the colors of his uniform and his skin and, in the place of where his arms should have been, his _blood and bone_. Cillian pressed a warm hand to the side of my neck and held me tightly to his chest as he reared back slightly and with a fierce kick the body fell back with a hard thud and shattered.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was definitely _not_ the frozen chunks of body and blood and viscera scattered across the floor. With a wave of cold shock, I realized that I had never actually seen any of them fight in person and this was so much more different than a game. Nearby, a woman cried out and the loud thud soon after told me that she must have fainted. I felt like joining her.

I winced as Maxwell walked quickly across the floor, _pieces_ of the man crunching beneath his boots. After a moment I realized he was trying to talk to me and I peeled my gaze off the floor and looked into his face. His expression was contorted in concern, but all I could see was that his eyes also looked like ice…

“Sophia… Are… are you alright?” He was reaching out for my neck, but a violent wave of nausea came over me and I leaned over and threw up. Cillian’s hand slipped from my neck to my side, keeping me from falling over.

“Ew…” said an unfamiliar but entirely too familiar voice. “More squishy bits. You lot can’t seem to avoid it, yeah?”

I lifted my head. My voice was rough. “Sera?”

The blonde elf took a step back, eying me cautiously. “Yeah…?” Her face morphed into one of concern mirroring the others. “Shit, she looks right about tits up, dun she?”

“So you found him then?” I asked Maxwell, ignoring - or perhaps not comprehending Sera’s last comment. He was still looking at me with that concerned expression, his arms - I realized - out towards me. I followed his arms to find his hands. With a jump, I finally understood that his hand had replaced Cillian’s on my neck and his other was holding my shoulder tightly. Why didn’t I notice?

“We did,” he said softly, stepping closer to me. “But he knew we were coming and apparently he had already sent some of his men after you.” He looked at me strangely then and I could feel his hand lift slightly from my neck before pressing firmly there once again. “Sophia? Are you okay?”

I scrunched my brow at that. “I’m _fine_ ,” I said dismissively, trying to focus on his confrontation with the man. He shouldn’t have known they were coming at all - nor should he have tired to make a preemptive attack. “How did he know?” I asked. If things were already changing… 

Solas stepped forward, a look of concern also clear on his face. I was getting pretty damn tired of all the wary looks actually. “It appears he heard of your visions and anticipated being discovered by them.” He took a few more steps towards me, looking into my face. He was searching for something, but I couldn’t tell what. Maxwell and Solas both shared a helpless and confused look between them.

“Wait!” cried Sera from the side, distracting me from Solas suggesting ‘Shock?’ to Maxwell. “All that vision-y, creepy shite was actually real?” She shook her head and paced back and forth. “Best chance of returning everything to a nice happy normal and it’s all ‘Touched-Lord-Herald’ and ‘Touched-Lady-Prophet,’” mumbled Sera before she looked back up at everyone. “Maybe I’m all touched too ‘cause, Andraste help me, I’d still like to help.”

I smirked at Sera’s discomfort but apparent bravery in pushing through it. I looked at Maxwell pointedly and then at Sera, trying to tell him wordlessly to talk to her. I put my hand over Maxwell’s pushing it away and feeling the sticky blood against my neck for myself. When he took his hand away I noticed my blood smeared across his palm. It was a lot more than I was expecting. I looked down and saw the collar of my tunic was drenched. I finally understood all of the looks and what Solas had said to Maxwell and felt faint again. “Oh…” I said woozily keeping my hand clamped on my own neck, “That’s a lot of…”

Maxwell turned and called out to Solas who came to my other side and put one arm around my back and the hand of his other over my neck. I felt a tingling and my neck actually burned at his touch. Slowly the burning subsided, but I still felt so very tired and week. He nodded to Cillian and the two of them slowly began walking for the stairs. As they led me up the stairs, I could hear Maxwell trying to make sense of Sera and her ‘help.’

I stumbled down the hall as they tried to guide me back to my room. I snaked both of my arms around Cillian’s waist again for support, but he let go of my waist and shifted me towards Solas. I moved my arms from Cillian’s torso to Solas’ as he walked ahead to open the door. Solas seemed to stiffen when I did so, but I felt too weak and tired to let go. Solas made for my bed, nodding his head towards my pack on the floor. “Get a potion.” Cillian rummaged through my healer’s kit while Solas put his hands on my hips and gently turned me, backing me up slowly against my bed. I fell over onto it as soon as I felt the bed hit the back of my legs. 

I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but Solas’ hands snaked beneath my arms and pulled me back up. “Not yet, Sophia.” He held my arms to steady me and I felt my head fall forward. I was so tired. Why couldn’t he let me just lie down? I tried to look up, but my head felt heavy. I felt a third hand move to the back of my neck and I flinched away. “You must drink. You have lost a lot of blood.”

Hands shifted around me. Cillian and Solas were switching places. Cillian sat in front of me, holding my arms to keep me steady and Solas sat beside me on the bed, his hand moving again to my neck to support my head and bringing the glass vial of one of my potions to my lips. Then I understood. Solas had healed the wound, but I needed the help of the potion to allow my body to recover.

I drank the potion with Solas’ help, but still felt so very tired. They lowered me onto my back and I heard Cillian step back. Solas’ weight left the bed and when I opened my eyes again blearily we were face to face. He was squatting at the side of the bed. “You can rest now.”

He moved to stand, but I reached out to him lamely with a heavy hand. “Solas, wait!” I tried to cry out but my voice was hoarse. “I need to..” I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “To talk to you. About…” I wasn’t sure if the lump was from what had happened or from nerves. I settled on both. “About my dreams…”

A brief flicker of concern flashed across his face before he schooled it back into the calm, serene expression that surprisingly brought me a lot of comfort. “There will be time for that later.” Soothingly he brushed some hair off my wet forehead. It felt odd before I realized that my skin and hair must have been damp from sweat, and in the back of my mind I sincerely hoped that Solas’ magic and the healing potion was enough to combat hypovolemic shock. Gently, I felt Solas lift my head again, remove a pillow and place it beneath my feet. Then a warmth surrounded me and hands gently pressing against my sides from my feet all the way up to my shoulders as I was tucked in tightly under a heavy blanket. I remember appreciating Solas’ knowledge and understanding a lot more before my whole body and mind felt a deep sinking into unconsciousness.


	15. Escape by Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia and co. make their escape from Val Royeaux. She discusses the implications of changing things with Solas and Maxwell and she finally confides in someone over her mounting nightmares. She also discovers a little more about the magic within her.

I drifted in and out of sleep for a while. Whether or not I dreamed during this time I couldn’t be sure. Several scenes and images came to me, but I never felt lucid enough to do more than observe. The first that I recall was of Cassandra, sitting in a chair next to my bed. Behind her, Solas and Maxwell appeared to be arguing, but I couldn’t hear anything. Cassandra leaned towards me, placing her hand over mine and spoke to me. What she said, I couldn’t tell, but as soon as her lips moved, Maxwell and Solas turned around. Solas came forward quickly, reaching out with a hand that brushed across my forehead and I felt myself sinking.

When I came to again, I felt numb at first. I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything. I tried to move my head or look around, but it felt stuck. Then the feeling of a hand, pressing tightly against my neck, just below my right ear told me that my head was being held in place. Following the hand, through the dissipating numbness I could begin to trace it back to the arm that I could feel behind my back, and to the body it was attached to, firmly pressed into my left side. Below my legs I could feel the other arm beneath my knees and the other hand, tightly gripping my right leg, just above my knee. I tried to move my arms, everything felt so heavy, but even the slightest twitch of my muscles sent a shockwave to my brain and I could finally feel my limbs again for a brief moment. My left arm was curled across my stomach while my right hung down, not by my side, but below it, swinging back and forth with movement. My legs were bent slightly, draped over the arm supporting them. The exertion of muscles and memory began to pull me back into unconsciousness again, but before it did, I realized that I was being carried.

I woke again because of a bright light that kept shining into my face and then disappearing. In the back of my mind I wondered what kind of accident I had been in, what kind of head trauma, as I pictured myself opening my eyes and adjusting to the bright lights of a trauma bay, a nurse or a doctor trying to scan my eyes with a light. But when I opened them and my eyes adjusted to the sunlight that came in through the window, Cillian was sitting in a chair next to me. I looked to the window again as the sun seemed to move beyond the window. I couldn’t understand how the sun was moving so quickly until I realized that I - or rather _we_ \- were moving. As if coming to that conclusion awoke my other senses, I could suddenly feel the soft rocking back and forth. We were on a ship. I was still very tired when Cillian noticed I was awake, so I didn’t hear much of what he said. He mentioned getting someone and left quickly, but I don’t know who he went to get because I fell asleep again before he came back.

When I awoke next, the sun had risen higher in the sky and no longer shone directly into the cabin I was in. I could hear two voices at the other end of the room speaking softly. I turned my head slightly to the side and tucked my chin down to watch them as best as I could without lifting my head - it still felt very heavy and pounded mercilessly behind my eyes.

In the corner of the room Maxwell had pulled Solas aside and they were talking quietly, but after a time I could hear the conversation better.

“What about how her vision changed?” asked Maxwell softly, looking apprehensive.

They were talking about me. I strained to hear more. Was Maxwell upset with me? Would he find me unreliable after what happened?

“I’d be more concerned with the knowledge that she is unable to see herself in her visions,” replied Solas calmly.

Maxwell shook his head. “But the change resulted directly in her attack.”

Solas hmm’d and stood silently. Maxwell watched him expectantly while he remained silent for a few moments longer. “Perhaps she was unable to see the change in events because it directly involved her?”

“Do you think that's why her other visions in Val Royeaux came so late?”

My eyes widened and I fought with myself to not move or make a noise. It was very difficult to not groan out loud once I had realized how much I had messed up. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to calm myself. 

At the time it made sense to tell them that I could see nothing of my future because I didn’t _belong_ in Thedas. But now that I started to change things, what if Maxwell no longer trusts me to take me along for fear that I couldn’t see what would happen if I was there? I had to think of a way to fix this soon...

There was a pause and I could hear footsteps approaching. I tried to not show any reaction on my face and to keep my breathing even. It must have worked because I felt gentle hands lift my head back onto my pillow. “She is distressed,” said Solas right next to me, and I was afraid that I hadn’t managed to keep my expression calm.

While I worked up the courage to open my eyes and face being caught, I felt a warm hand against my forehead again and a tingling. Solas was casting a spell. I suddenly grew very tired and started to fall asleep again, but before I did, I could make out Solas’ voice, distorted by the coming sleep, saying, “I have deepened her sleep. Hopefully it will keep her dreams at bay.” Before I succumbed I remembered feeling touched that he thought I was having a nightmare and that he wanted to stop them.

I was awakened again by the sun shining in my face again. Sitting in a chair next to me I saw Cillian, his head bowed, murmuring something I couldn’t make out. I tried to say something but my throat felt thick and dry. I tried to wet my lips, but it felt like my tongue held no moisture, so instead, I moved my hand towards him. It was slow and heavy but I was able to move my hand into his vision and his head popped up. “My Lady! You are awake!” he shouted, standing up.

“How…” I stopped again, trying to clear my throat, but the rough texture sent a cough rippling through my chest. 

“I will fetch Master Solas and the Herald!” he shouted again, making me wince.

“Wa..wait…” I whispered, but he had already left.

Within moments Solas and Maxwell were in the doorway. Maxwell breathed out my name as a sigh and Solas moved into the room. His expression softened and he took a few steps towards me. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“What... happened?” I whispered hoarsely, trying to sit up which was a lot more difficult than I had expected.

Maxwell walked over and put an arm behind my back, helping me sit up while Solas put some pillows behind me. 

The movement drew my attention to the odd feeling on my chest. I looked down and noticed that I was wearing a different tunic than last night, but underneath I still felt like I was dirty, like a layer of grime or caked mud had dried on my skin. Then I remembered the blood-soaked tunic. “You changed me?” I asked absently and picked at the collar of my tunic and peered down underneath. My skin was still caked in dried blood.

“Cassandra did,” he admitted, leaning me back against the pillows, but by the time they finished my head was pounding and I had my eyes screwed shut, waiting for it to pass.

“Here, take this,” said Solas. I opened a single eye and saw that he was standing next to me with another vial of one of my healing potions. I took it and sipped it slowly, finding it difficult to keep my arms up for even a small length of time. As I drank the potion, the dryness of my throat and mouth seemed to abate somewhat and I could clear it now without a cough.

“I need a bath…”

Solas took the empty bottle from me before Maxwell replied. “I can talk to the captain about getting you something to wash up with, but it unfortunately won’t be a bath.”

I looked back over to Maxwell. “What happened with the noble?”

Maxwell sat in the chair beside my bed, resting his hands on his thighs. “He was setting up a meeting with some conspirators. He seemed to be an Orlesian noble - who was also a mage,” he said significantly. I remembered the cut scene in my head and realized that it never actually occurred to me how odd it should have been that the man was a mage. Was he ever in a Circle? Weren’t mages stripped of titles? Was he an apostate hiding this entire time? Or was he connected with the Venatori? “We didn’t get the chance to question him, but one of the clues mentioned serving a ‘new way.’” Suddenly, I realized that there were so many more questions surrounding this man than I had originally thought, including ones I wasn’t prepared for.

“Last night you said he was expecting you…” I started, still uneasy.

He nodded. “He said it was only a matter of time before we found him.”

“That's… not right,” I said shaking my head.

Solas and Maxwell both canted their heads to the side at the same time with confused expressions. It would have been adorable or even funny if the implication of the situation weren’t so terrifying. “Why?” asked Solas. “What did you see?”

“He wasn’t expecting you. When you show up, he was supposed to gloat about how much it cost the Inquisition to find him…” Maxwell and Solas share an incredulous look. “I know… he thought himself too important for you to have accidentally discovered him. Before you could find out more, Sera shows up and shoots him in the face with an arrow.”

“Well at least that was still the same…” said Maxwell with a sigh. “He told us that he knew we would find him eventually and that he was actually _pleased_ we were there as it would make it easier to deal with ‘both nuisances at once.’”

I winced. “He meant you and me…”

“That is what we have surmised,” said Solas, nodding.

“How? How did everything change?”

“Well, we can assume that he grew concerned after rumors spread that the Inquisition had someone who experienced visions of the future,” explained Solas. “Sophia, I know you cannot see yourself in your visions, but were you supposed to intercede for the Revered Mother in your original vision?”

“I…” I felt the color drain from my face. I had done that specifically _to change things_ for Maxwell, to hopefully pacify the Chantry early on, but I did not anticipate this. “No,” I said, looking down at my hands.

Solas nodded pensively. “Then it stands to reason that other things you witnessed before your actions might have also changed.”

I put my face in my hands and groaned. It was time to be honest. “At the time, I thought that if I helped the Revered Mother, it would show the world and the Chantry that the Inquisition stands _for_ them, not against them. I wanted to help you,” I said looking up at Maxwell whose face had remained passive.

“What was supposed to happen?” he asked, keeping the mask.

“The templars show up the Chantry in front of their followers and call their claim to authority a pitiful display. Lucius shows the world that the Chantry was ever only as powerful as the templars they leashed. Once the leash was taken from them, so too would their power be. In the end it would have worked out for the Inquisition because it would have weakened the Chantry in the eyes of its followers and therefore weakened their position in calling us heretics.” I shook my head and looked at him with pleading eyes, trying to convince him that this was hopefully better. “This way, instead of making the Chantry look weaker, the templars looked like thugs, and now we have a Chantry that only appears strengthened _because of_ the Inquisition and they will have no choice but to change their position on us. At the very least, they are no longer united in stance and the time it takes them to debate among themselves will give us time to find help closing the Breach.”

Maxwell looked surprised. “And you just… figured all that out in the time between your vision and when you acted?”

I schooled my features and tried to not react even though inside I was mentally flogging myself. I had nearly a week to figure all that out, but in their eyes it only took seconds. Perhaps it _wasn’t_ the time for complete honesty after all. I looked down, embarrassed. “Well… no. I acted because it felt like the right thing to do… Afterwards, when I was terrified of having to explain myself to the advisers, I reasoned through how this might actually have been for the better.”

Maxwell sighed and shook his head. I was beginning to hate that look of his, the one specially meant for me. “Dammit, Sophie. You need to be more careful. We don’t even know what kind of affect changing things will have on you and your visions.”

I made a face. I knew deep down he was right because my ‘visions’ were in fact only prior knowledge and once I started to change things that knowledge would become less reliable, but still, why was I even here - and with this knowledge - if not to help? “Then what is even the point of having visions if not to try to make things better?”

Solas interjected before Maxwell could respond. “Small changes may indeed have immediate effects around us; however, it could stand to reason that in the grander scheme, small decisions will likely have less and less effect on larger events to come. After all, history is shaped by not merely one mind or one organization, but the intentions and motivations of many others. Things have been put into motion by centuries of pain and animosity. I highly doubt Sophia could have an effect on what is supposed to already happen, instead merely how we choose to respond to it.”

Solas’ explanation actually made me feel a lot better. “So, you’re saying that the more things change, the more they ultimately stay the same?”

“Strangely put, but I believe so, yes.”

Maxwell seemed to mull this over in his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he did so. Finally he sighed and threw up his hands. “All of this seems way beyond my understanding.” He leveled a look at me again. “Look. I trust you, and like I said two days ago, your mind works in ways I will never understand, but I also need you to understand my perspective. You’re too important, and you can’t even see what happens to yourself in the future. You need to start thinking more about how your visions, and your choices concerning them, will affect _you_ too and not just me.”

I nodded. He was right. So far I’ve been focused on what my knowledge could do to get Maxwell and the others to trust me and how to make this journey easier for them that my decisions have entirely glossed over how I actually _fit_ into this world. I’ve been so resistant over coming to terms with the fact that I actually _lived in_ Thedas (even if for only a time) and I refused to see myself as an active participant in its events. But I had to start if I wanted to become who I needed to be in order to get back home - and if I wanted to survive while doing so. “You’re right. I haven’t been thinking about myself and how I fit into all of this.” Then something he said stood out to me. “Wait. You said two days ago… That wasn’t… yesterday?”

Solas shook his head. “You’ve been asleep off and on for a day now.”

I looked back out the window again. The sunlight peering into the window must mean that it was again morning. So I’ve been in this room for twenty four hours or longer. “Where are we?”

Maxwell leaned forward. “We’re on an Orlesian merchant vessel heading back for Jader. Its been calm but slow weather, so we should arrive sometime in the next two days.”

“Which will give you more time to rest before we journey back to Haven,” added Solas.

“Hey, Sophia. Good to see you finally awake.”

I smiled at the newcomer standing timidly at the door. “Thanks, Varric,” I said with a smile. Then I realized something different. “No more Lucky?”

He made a face. “After all that’s happened, it just doesn’t feel right anymore,” he replied glumly.

I sighed, relieved. “Good. I hated that name.”

He put up his hands. “Hey, now. At the time it seemed to fit in an... ironic sort of way.” Then he made a face again. “The other night though... It just felt a wrong to keep calling you that.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pick out a new one for you soon enough,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh…”

He looked around the room, suddenly sensing that he walked in on something. “So, is it my turn, or am I skipping this one?” His turn for what? I looked among the three of them confused.

Solas looked at both Maxwell and Varric. “If it is alright, I will take this one. I believe Sophia had something she wanted to talk to me about,” he explained before turning to me.

“Turns for what?” I finally asked.

Maxwell nodded to Solas and stood, giving up his seat. Then he turned to me. “The Orlesian merchant was only too happy to help the Herald and his Prophet escape the city in the middle of the night. He is a devout man who appreciates what you did for Mother Hevara, but even he was not certain of how his men would behave, so he set you up in his own quarters and we’ve had someone with you at all times.” 

I looked down at my hands. I was overwhelmed by how much everyone seemed to care about me. It also made my chest hurt because I knew deep down that they only cared about me because of my lie. None of them would have ever even noticed me if I hadn’t created such a stupid and dramatic lie with these visions. In reality they would have done everything just fine without me. They didn’t need me at all, but I needed them, and I was using them. Everything I seemed to be doing was only to complicate their stories even further. 

I looked up at the touch of a hand on my shoulder and saw Maxwell standing over me again, his blue eyes shining with relief and worry. “I’m so glad that you’re alright,” he said gently with a reassuring squeeze. It had the opposite effect on me. Instead of making me feel calmer, it only deepened the yawning pit of disgust that had been growing in my gut. He gave my shoulder another squeeze before he turned to leave, taking Varric with him.

Solas walked over to the door and shut it before returning to the bedside and took up Maxwell’s seat in the chair. “The other night you said you wanted to talk about your dreams,” he said, opening the conversation and waiting expectantly.

I quickly thought back to that night. I was terrified of falling asleep after everything that had happened. I felt so drained and I thought that if I had dreamt, I would have been too weak to do anything against the demons. Luckily, I didn’t dream at all - or at least didn’t remember dreaming over the last day or so; however, the fact that the demons seemed to find ways to get under my skin in a way that made me less lucid was incredibly scary, and it was time that I spoke to someone about them.

I licked my dry lips, not sure where or how to start. Back in Haven, he left it open. A request that let me know that I could come to him in the future. Did he _believe_ my dreams could have changed? Or did he perhaps not believe _me_ when I said they were normal? “I…” I started, but stopped. I didn’t know how to start.

Solas gave a half, but reassuring smile. “Have they gotten worse?” he asked, trying to lead the conversation.

I nodded. When he didn’t speak, I realized he was waiting for me again. I sighed. “There have been… demons.”

Solas’ expectant face grew concerned, surprised even. “You actually recall there being demons? Specifically demons?” I nodded. “How?”

I thought about his question. Was it really odd to recognize the demons in my dreams? Then I thought back to how normal people should dream in Thedas. Barely even able to remember their dreams, they probably couldn’t consciously identify the presence of a demon. That was something that mages needed to be trained to recognize. “Sophia,” urged Solas when I had been silent for a time. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“It would start like a normal dream. Usually they are about Jack. Sometimes they would be… nice even. But then something would feel off, even in my nightmares. Some terrible twist or event that should feel out of place that I don’t recognize at first, or the person I am with is suddenly _not_ them. And then I realize that it isn’t right. Something is wrong.”

“And you have been able to identify this as the work of a demon?” I nodded again. “How, Sophia? Be specific.”

I didn’t _want_ to be specific. What if it revealed too much? This was frustrating. I needed someone to know, to help. No, I specifically needed _Solas_ to know, but he was so perceptive. If I said the wrong thing, would it reveal too much? “Well… the night before the attack I had a nightmare about Maxwell.” Solas’ gaze turned into one of concern again. I decided to tell him about it, needing to share the dream specifically with someone, but to leave out his own part in it. “I had been afraid that my life was changing, that I’d never go back to what I once had,” I explained, being purposefully vague. “We were in the market in Val Royeaux during the morning. I should have known it was odd because no one else was there except for the two of us. It was… rather nice actually. Calm. Serene. Then he started saying things I didn’t understand at first. About how things were changing, how _I_ was changing everything. Then I thought of Jack and… how my entire life has changed since I came out of that rift. And Jack he… he just showed up.” I looked up at Solas for a moment. He didn’t appear surprised by that. It had surprised _me_ at the time, but then again, to Solas, Jack was no longer alive. So for Solas Jack showing up was more of a figment of my longing or loss, not a play on my hopes to actually see him again. 

I continued. “He argued with Maxwell, promising to bring me back to my old life, but Maxwell, he…” I stopped, not wanting to say it. I had to remind myself that the Maxwell in my dream wasn’t the real Maxwell. “He wouldn’t let me go. He goaded Jack into attacking him and when he did, he killed him. Right in front of me. I collapsed on the ground and…” I hesitated, afraid of how to explain the end of the dream. 

“Templars killed Jack,” said Solas gently sensing my hesitance but assuming a different reason. “Not the Herald.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But then _he_ came to me, lifted me by the chin and spoke to me in a voice that was not his. He said fear weakened me. He told me to give him my terror.”

Solas let out a long breath. “What happened then?”

“I woke up.”

“You just… woke up?” he asked, incredulous and a tone in his voice that was not in line with his usual calm demeanor. I nodded, confused. He got up and paced the room, his hand moving to his chin. I winced because the way he was holding his own chin was not unlike the way he grabbed me in my dream - in the part of it that I refused to tell him about. 

He mumbled to himself as he paced. It was difficult to understand some of it because he either spoke very low or he sometimes spoke in elvish, but one phrase I managed to make out was, “Why would a fear demon just _let her go_?”

Then I felt a deep terror run through me. Why _had_ it let me go? I thought back on the lore. In Origins, the Warden had to fight to escape from Sloth in the Circle and in many other instances one had to fight and defeat the demon that entrapped them. So, why then, when I dreamt of demons did they show themselves to me when I caught on to them and just _let me go_?

Solas stopped suddenly, realizing that his pacing and mumbling was only adding to my distress, and he came back to the chair. “Could your connection to the Fade really be that strong?” he asked, reaching out a hand. He paused, realizing himself, and smiled sheepishly. “May I?” He was hoping to sense the magic again. I nodded, wide-eyed.

He reached out to touch my hand resting at my side. Before our skin touched, it no longer felt like the gentle tingling similar to his healing magic, but it felt like an intense buzz, like a spark shifted from me to him. Solas must have felt it too because his hand jumped momentarily before settling back across the top of mine. His eyebrows knit tightly together as he concentrated on the magic inside me. The buzzing feeling lit across my entire body. It was an unnerving feeling, almost painful. When he pulled away, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and raised my hand against my chest and rubbed it gently with the other. “My apologies. I was not aware it brought you discomfort.”

“It didn’t before. What changed?”

“I… do not know,” he said, and he seemed particularly disturbed about it too. “Your connection to the Fade feels stronger. Perhaps the demons can now sense it too. I fear you are in great danger, Sophia.”

“Why?” I asked, still holding my hand against my chest and feeling a slight tremor move through my spine.

“If demons can sense the Fade in you, then they would desire it greatly. It is that way with mages. Demons do not seek to possess mages merely because of the power we wield - it is a common misconception,” he said, waving his hand as if willing the ignorance away. “They are drawn to our deeper connection with the Fade. That deeper connection results in mana which ultimately fuels our magic. However, with _you_... the connection feels different, more pure. Demons will be drawn to it. To them you will appear to be a vessel, filled with the purest waters of the Fade - a means to walk wholly within the waking world.”

When I spoke, my voice was a whisper, trembling as my whole body trembled. “How do I stop it?”

“It seems you’ve already figured out how,” he replied, his voice somewhat lighter. More hopeful. “Before you dreamed much more passively, but still with the ability to become lucid. You will need to train yourself to be constantly alert when you dream - to be _aware_ of the dream. It is not unlike the training that all mages must undergo, and I can help you. While demons will desire you because of the Fade within you, it seems it also has granted you greater ability to exert your own will, allowing you to wake yourself even when entrapped by a demon.”

I moved my hands to my lap and picked at the skin around my nails, anxiously. “But in my last nightmare, it was so much harder to wake up…”

“That is because they have been testing you, finding your weaknesses. It seems it is fear,” he replied, returning to his previous, cool demeanor, talking about possession and nightmares as if it were pleasant conversation over a cup of tea instead of the mortal peril he made it out to be mere moments ago.

“And that’s bad…” I reminded him, feeling a little indignant at his sudden shift.

“Not quite,” he said with a slight smile. I glowered at him in response. He put up a hand. “Now hear me. Fear is only powerful because it feeds well in dark times. However, with your ability to become lucid, fear is something much easier to fight than other emotions that demons may prey upon. Whether our fears are rooted in something irrational or are based in some unpleasant truth that we do not wish to face, we can ultimately confront them. By approaching our irrational fears with a calm mind and understanding, we can simply banish them. The more difficult task comes with the fears that may be based in truth which seems to be what the fear demon had attempted to prey upon with you.”

“And how do I overcome them?” I asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

“You face them, and learn to accept the truth that you are afraid to accept.” I felt my heart drop in my gut at his answer. I knew what he was going to say before he even said it, but I didn’t want to face it - and that was exactly the problem.

I shook my head. “I’m not ready to face it yet…”

Solas placed a comforting hand on mine. I unconsciously jumped at the contact, remembering the buzz that happened last time. This time it just felt warm and comforting. “You must face it soon Sophia, or they will continue to prey upon you. You take away their power to control your emotional state, you take their power to control _you_ \- to feed off of you or to entrap you in a deal to possess you.”

We were both silent for what felt like a long time. After about a minute or so he removed his hand from mine, but he sat quietly while I thought to myself. I knew what my biggest fears were, and that they were based in a truth I wasn’t ready yet to accept - the possible truth that I may in fact never see home again. There was another fear, deep beneath the surface that became more real as the possibility of being stuck here became more real. I didn’t want to put words to it because I feared it would bring it to life, but suddenly that fear felt palpable, like a bubble building and building within the confines of my chest. I wasn’t ready to face this fear yet. I sighed and buried my face in my hands, rubbing them harshly across my skin.

Finally Solas broke the silence again. “I want you to talk to me about your dreams, Sophia. As soon as you remember them, so I can help you learn how to protect yourself. And…” he paused, hesitating, “Given the state of affairs in the world, and the fear towards mages and demons in general, I believe it is best that we do not discuss your dreams with anyone else. For now.” I looked up at him in shock. Was he really going to keep this a secret from everyone else? I realized with a sobering thought that yes, he would. He was keeping so many already, but really why _did_ anyone else need to know? He was the only true expert on the Fade and dreams and best equipped with helping me figure all of this out anyway. I nodded slowly and replied weakly, “Okay.”

He looked like he wanted to say more but was struggling with himself. Finally, his face settled into a serene mask and he looked at me gently again. More secrets. Even with my knowledge of him, I could not discern the secrets behind what he was choosing to hold back.

* * *

The winds were never in our favor as we sailed back to Jader. The journey took two more days, but no one seemed to be in too much of a hurry, at least not in my presence. For the first day after I woke up on the ship, I stayed in bed. I had consumed much of my supply of healing potions and they worked fast in helping my body recover. The physical wound was gone, but the effects of the blood loss were still lingering. Solas said the cut hadn’t actually been that deep, but I had still lost enough to require rest to recover. Taking the potions sped up that recovery. First the headaches left me, then the heaviness of my limbs, allowing me to feed myself later that first night. In the following morning, I was able to stand and walk on my own with slow, uncertain steps, and I finally left the captain’s cabin to explore the ship with Maxwell and Cillian beside me.

The captain was definitely not what I was expecting. Unlike the Fereldan captain, this man was all manners and charm. He wore an expensive samite doublet over a silk shirt. I was actually surprised he wasn’t worried about what the weather would do to his clothes, but he probably changed them much more often than the Fereldan captain had - whose clothes were worn to the point of decay. He was a charming man who extended every courtesy of hospitality towards me. Just as Maxwell had said, he truly was grateful that we stood up for the Chantry and were trying to close the Breach.

Everyone was quiet and reserved on the ship. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were afraid of being overheard or if they felt subdued by the recent events. I had a dark feeling that it was the latter. My visions, seeing them come true for themselves, my attack… it gave us all pause. Sera was actively avoiding me and when I’d try to talk to her she’d find some excuse to scamper off. She hadn’t even _seen_ me have one of my visions yet, but she was completely creeped out by me. I felt sullen. One action, one decision that only lasted moment, has had such a ripple effect on everyone else. Cillian felt like a failure, Cassandra and Maxwell were going to get chewed out by the advisers, Solas was keeping secrets - well _more_ secrets - from everyone else, and then I realized one night he was keeping some from me too.

I had slept for an entire day and then stayed in bed for the next. I couldn’t sleep anymore so when I rolled over in bed late one night, I noticed Cillian was asleep, his chin resting against his chest. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and hoped that the sound of the bed groaning would blend into the sounds of the ship. He didn’t stir as I moved, so I tiptoed towards him - and the door behind him. 

Perhaps he knew he was falling asleep and positioned himself so that if someone had tried to enter the room he would have been alerted to the door hitting the back of his chair. There was about a foot of space between him and the door, so I pulled the door open gently and squeezed out before softly pulling it closed.

Once outside, I took in a deep breath, relishing in the quiet sound of the gentle breeze, but then I heard voices from the deck above me. I flatted my back against the wall and listened.

“What do you mean you sensed something more?” asked Maxwell, his voice sounding apprehensive.

Solas spoke calmly. “When I assessed her during our conversation, I could feel the magic in her. It has grown stronger, but it felt like more than just the Fade. That unfamiliar aspect to it… it felt old, _ancient_.”

Maxwell’s boot echoed against the wood of the deck as he took a step closer to Solas, his voice falling lower and making it much more difficult to hear. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on their voices. “What do you mean _old_? Older than the veil?”

Solas shook his head, “I don’t know.” The tone in his voice terrified me. He was unnerved. Whether it was from the fact that he truly didn’t know, or he _did_ and was lying about it, I couldn’t tell. One thing I did know, however, was that Solas had been holding onto this information for a couple of days and he deliberately chose to share it with Maxwell and not me.

Why?


	16. The Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia and co. make their way back to Haven from Jader during which, Sophia has another mental slip up and has to cover (poorly).
> 
> Once back in Haven, Sophia continues to realize the gravity of her actions... 
> 
> And her inaction, too.

I felt relieved when we finally reached Jader. While the captain was very hospitable, the mood on the ship had become too dreary. Maxwell quickly gathered our horses from the stable and had even brought an additional one for Sera, and we were finally on our way.

Vivienne did not travel with us; she chose to leave for Haven the morning after the party, so she was days ahead of us since she faced much better weather. At first the ride was still quiet and solemn. It seemed like everyone was being overly cautious around me, and it was beginning to drive me crazy. It was only the first day of travel by horse and if the rest of the trip went like this, I was pretty sure I’d end up raving mad. I had to school my features into stoicism because every time I’d sigh of boredom or frustration someone would ask me if I was alright.

I think Varric finally caught on that afternoon when we resumed our trip after a short rest and a meal. He glanced back at me with a smirk before loudly announcing, “I spy…” he began.

He had tried this game a few times before on the ride out, but as always Cassandra shut him down. “No!” she replied grumpily.

Varric chuckled and shook his head, but Sera got excited. “Oh! Oh! I spy something green!”

Cassandra sighed, but Varric and I looked around. We were surrounded by hills, grasslands, and trees. Nearly _everything_ was green. “Uhh… trees?” I ventured.

“Yes!” declared Sera and started again. “I spy…”

Varric interrupted her with a chuckle. “That’s not how the game works, Buttercup. You’re supposed to choose something difficult and when they guess it, _they_ get to go.”

Sera frowned. “Well that's no fun, innit?” she asked, turning to me. I shrugged, letting her have my turn. Varric sighed. “Okay, okay. How about this one? I spy… something white!”

Varric rolls his eyes and replied glumly, “The clouds…”

“Damn!”

They exchanged turns of ‘I Spy’ for a little while and I just watched, amused at Varric trying to teach her to play a better game, but Sera just wanted to do it her way. Eventually Varric gave in and they started getting into more and more inappropriate territory, getting more personal, like the color of clothes and hair and scars and eyes. It started to get a little weird because we’d feel their eyes more closely on us, examining us. After a time, they turned most of their attention on Cassandra, noting how irritated it made her. Finally the game was called to an end by Maxwell after Sera called out a color no one could see and it was revealed that Sera was referring to Cassandra’s smalls. She looked absolutely murderous.

However, I think Varric’s game had the desired effect. Everyone seemed a bit lighter now - except Cassandra who seemed to be eternally grumpy when in the presence of Varric. But everyone was making small talk again, avoiding bringing up Val Royeaux completely. Varric was a genius in my book.

Sometime later, as the sun was setting and we were getting ready to set up camp, Solas approached Sera, Cillian, and I while we were trying to set up one of the tents - which was actually just Sera and Cillian doing all the work and me standing there wanting to help but no one letting me. He leaned on his staff and watched us a few moments before speaking to Sera in elven. “ _Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma'sula e'var vhenan_.”

Sera stood up straight and looked at him like an exasperated child being told to do something they didn't want to do and blew a very loud raspberry in response, shocking Solas. My eyes widened and I stepped back, watching and trying to hide my smirk. I recognized this exchange.

“Excuse me?” replied Solas, sounding both surprised and affronted.

Sera shrugged and turned back to securing the tent with stakes. “'Scuse _yourself_. Whatever you said and what I did, same difference to me.” She punctuated her sentence with a hard whack to one of the stakes.

Solas looked dejected, shifting his staff from one hand to the other. “I’d hoped… well, our people can sometimes feel the rhythm of the language despite lacking the vocabulary.”

Sera made a face. “Uh huh? Know what else is good?” she asked with another hard hit to a stake. “Words that mean things.” _Whack_. She then turned to him with a sour face. “Like these. _Words_.”

I couldn’t help myself by the end of this exchange and I was shaking visibly from laughing, my hand over my mouth doing nothing to hide my smile. 

Solas turned from her, frustration etched across his face as his brows knitted together and his nose wrinkled. “ _Fenedhis lasa_!”

To which Sera blew another raspberry, but I suddenly realized something I hadn’t connected before and roared with laughter, pulling their attention to me. Solas looked more irritated and Sera looked amused, believing her antics were causing my laughter. It was, however, the fact that I had heard that curse a few times playing the game and looked it up. It was a version of ‘Fuck off’ or ‘Fuck you,’ but linguistically made an inappropriate reference to a wolf’s anatomy, while also culturally referring - most likely - to the trickster god Fen’Harel. Who was standing here. Right now. In front of us. Using the curse which suddenly translated in my head as ‘Suck my cock.’ So yes… I couldn’t help nearly falling over with laughter, wheezing. Which seemed to worry the two as my response no longer matched the situation and Sera’s smile fell and Solas’ frustration turned to confusion.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I wheezed, holding up my hand. “It’s just your curse…” 

“Wut curse?” asked Sera, confused and glaring at Solas with mistrust.

I took a deep breath to try and calm myself. I held up both hands and took a breath. "Sorry, it's just... You’re always just so... collected and _proper_. And then _that_ … was so _dirty_ ,” I said falling into a fit of giggles again.

Sera huffed. “Oi! What did he say?!”

But Solas ignored her and kept staring at me. First his face showed a smug satisfaction before moving back to confusion, much deeper than before. “You know elven?”

My giggling abruptly stopped and I stared at him. Internally, I was freaking out. I had fan-girled for a moment and completely forgot about the persona I had crafted. He already questioned my background as being illiterate and uneducated. Now I had revealed that I knew some of the elven language… “Oh, uh… some. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you,” I covered, hoping that it would sound reasonable that I was worried that an elf might find my knowledge of their language offensive - to which I _knew_ wasn’t the case with Solas, but hopefully he wouldn’t know that and my sudden shock and embarrassment would make sense.

He shook his head. “It does not, but where did you learn it?”

Sera was shifting from side to side, having already made several attempts to get our attention and figure out what he had actually said to her, but we ignored her attempts - Solas having become engrossed in my most recent slip-up and me struggling to get out of it. Finally she gave up, tossed the mallet she was holding over her shoulder and stalked off, grabbing her bow and leaving camp. Cillian stood there confused, but finally grumbled, grabbing the mallet to finish the job.

We both glanced at her as she left which gave me a quick moment to think of something reasonable. As I spoke the lie became more and more detailed and I was beginning to worry about how quickly lie after lie seemed to spring to my mind. “Back in the Hinterlands, a dalish clan had come through. They seemed used to dealing with humans and they came to the Crossroads to trade, but some of the people there didn’t want to deal with them. I realized they were asking for medical supplies so I offered them some from my teacher’s stock. I knew he wouldn’t care,” I said with a shrug. I knew this didn’t answer his question, but I also knew he’d keep asking for details until he understood or accepted the lie. If I was patient, he’d help me construct my own lie instead of me running the risk of saying too much.

“They didn’t have their own supplies?”

“They ran low I suppose. There was a sickness in their camp.”

“And they just _trusted_ that information to you?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Sort of? One of the hunters was really cautious around me, but once the other found out I was also a healer he told me a little more. They argued about trusting me and eventually left, so I thought that would have been it, but then later they came back with another who said that if I wanted to help, then I'd had to do it their way and I agreed.”

Solas still looked distrustful. "That was very naïve," he commented gravely. "You trust too easily, Sophia. I am surprise it has not ended poorly for you. The dalish do not trust outsiders."

I knew his experiences with the Dalish - as an elf himself - were difficult. For me to be a human seemed more unbelievable, but I also knew that some clans were more comfortable around humans than others, and that even the more mistrustful clans wouldn’t refuse help when they really needed it - regardless of the source. “They didn’t _exactly_ trust me,” I said, trying to get him to believe the story - while beginning to regret even starting it. “But even their healers were sick and they weren’t sure what to do. They blindfolded me and brought me to their camp. I realized they’d caught the illness that was sweeping through our village too. There wasn’t a cure for it. They would just have to let it pass, so I taught them how to care for the sick and how to treat the symptoms until their people recovered. I was there for the entire day. I realize it could have been stupid, but I can't just stay back when people are sick - it goes against who I am, and as for the language, when one of the hunters that I was treating cursed at me with those words you used earlier, I was afraid that I’d hurt him or was doing something wrong. The kinder hunter escorting me explained it. When he saw that I found it humorous instead of insulting, he privately translated a few other things during my time there.” I looked away blushing from his scrutiny, but made up a lie to cover it. “They were… mostly curses and insults.”

Solas stared at me for a few more moments, ruminating on my words as his jaw ticked and his eyebrows stayed tightly pressed in the middle of his forehead. Finally, his face softened and he smiled warmly. “You have a good heart,” he said and walked towards the cooking fire.

In spite of the apparent warm compliment, my stomach was twisting in knots. That lie had completely run away from me. It started as a way to plausibly explain a vague understanding of his language by coming in contact with those who still spoke it and it ended up with me explaining my way around getting past dalish suspicion and custom. What was worse was that I knew Solas didn't believe it. Still, he seemed to just let it go and didn't show any other indication of mistrust which only made me feel progressively worse.

Later that night at dinner I had zoned out of the conversation Maxwell was having with Varric about his _Tale of the Champion_ again. Others chimed in to talk about certain moments in the book and question him on what _really_ happened. Some of it Varric admitted to having ‘embellished’ - his words - for the readers, but some details he staunchly defended as being entirely true. I got lost in my own thoughts again, thinking about Dragon Age II and having played it in the recent months before ending up here. Jack had played it a bit too before getting bored with it. I always opted for a more diplomatic or humorous Hawke. Jack always chose a female rogue who was aggressive and intimidating, while also a complete flirt, and he’d irritatingly rush through the story making contradictory decisions. While I was thinking back, I was humming “Empress of Fire” to myself. I had heard it fresh and in person in the market back in Val Royeaux and it got stuck in my head after that. 

“Want to share with the rest of us, Red?” asked Varric. I vaguely registered the request, but thought nothing of it, looking up now at the stars that were just beginning to appear in the sky. “Sophie, you with us?” he tried again.

I jumped, realizing he was talking to me. “Huh? Sorry. What?”

“What were you humming just now?”

“A song I heard in Val Royeaux. Wait,” remembering what he had just said. “What did you call me?”

“Red,” he said matter-of-factly with a grin. I rolled my eyes. “I'm just trying it out," he said defensively. "You can’t hate that one, too,” he complained. “If you keep shutting down all the names I choose for you, then I’m just going to chalk it up to modesty and start calling you ‘Mouse.’” I glared at him, daring him to try. He seemed to think to himself for a moment before smirking at me again. “I could also go with ‘Songbird.’”

I sighed, but gave up. I didn’t understand why he chose the names he did. They didn’t seem to actually fit me - except for Red, but even then my hair was more an auburn color. It only looked reddish when the sun hit it directly. Songbird didn’t make any sense. I never really sang publicly before. I just liked to hum to myself a lot, especially when I got lost in my thoughts. The humming usually let me tune everything else out a lot easier. But, I thought ruefully, I never actually let anyone really _see_ _me_ anyway - not the real me. So I told myself to get over it and let Varric form his own idea of what I was like.

* * *

Our pace was slow and the day and a half it should have taken to reach the mountain paths near Haven turned into two and a half. Once we reached the trails, however, I was no longer supplementing my recovery with healing potions - which was good because I had all but run out of my supply. I wished we could have moved faster. I was honestly ready to no longer be sleeping on the ground day in and day out only to climb on top of a horse that was as tall as I was and be jostled about for several miles. When the Imperial Highway turned into sloping mountains and I saw the first hints of snow, my heart (and my back) felt immense relief. A few days later we passed into the valley and Haven came into view.

When we arrived there were a lot of villagers outside waiting for us. I wasn’t expecting to see them and I looked over at Maxwell nervously. I assumed they were crowded around again for the Herald of Andraste, so I slipped back and hung out by the stables to let him deal with the crowds. When Maxwell turned his head and noticed I wasn’t there, he spun around looking for me and saw me by the stables staring at him wide-eyed. He walked back to me shaking his head with a smile.

“Come on,” he said gently, slipping his arm around mine. “I already had my turn. Now its yours.”

“M-mine?!” I asked, mortified.

He chuckled and took a few steps back towards the village gates. As we came into view villagers began clamoring over each other to see us. “Why else do you think they’re here if not to see Andraste’s prophet?”

I groaned and shrunk into his side. He tilted against me, gently pushing me back to stand on my own. His head dipped down to whisper, “Walk tall. Remember, you represent the Inquisition. I had to do this alone, but I’ll help you.” He pat my arm with his other hand and led me through the crowd. Much like Maxwell’s first experience, people crowded the village streets as we passed, whispering how I had seen the future and faced down the Lord Seeker and saved a Revered Mother. Sure it was based in truth, but it was also incredibly exaggerated to make me sound like some damned Joan of Arc. I winced remembering that Joan of Arc was also called a witch and a liar and burned at the stake.

When we neared the chantry I breathed a sigh of relief until I caught sight of the advisers standing at the door. Sera had since disappeared, but Solas and Varric also broke off, seeing the advisers waiting for us. Varric whispered before he left, “Good luck, you three.”

Josephine looked relieved to see us, Leliana’s face was stoic in front of the crowds, and Cullen looked like he was fighting a headache. They opened the doors and followed us in as we entered. “It is good you’ve returned,” she said once we were all inside and the doors shut behind us. “We heard of your encounter.”

“Of course, you’ve heard,” grumbled Cassandra.

Leliana momentarily looked smug. “My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course.” Then her gaze darkened on the three of us. “Such amazing tales we’ve heard.”

Maxwell sighed. “We had no other choice. Sophia had a vision in front of everyone and when she saw that a templar was going to attack the Revered Mother she felt compelled to step in.”

Cullen shook his head. “I still cannot believe that the templars have completely abandoned their senses… _as well as_ the capital.” I sighed, relieved that Maxwell managed to distract the advisers from chewing us out for a time.

“At least the Chantry has been dealt with and we know how to get help for the Breach,” tried Maxwell, hoping to placate the advisors.

“Do we?” countered Cassandra. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember,” she added.

“True,” replied Leliana, looking thoughtful. “He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.” Leliana turned to me. “Any new insights on their whereabouts?”

I shrunk back under her gaze. “Uhm… no. Not yet,” I lied. I still wasn’t sure how to approach telling them about the mages and the templars. Both were ultimately traps and I wondered if I could save the Herald from those traps completely, or if it would change too much. In both traps, the Herald learns about the assassination plot and about the Elder One, but how much of that would be necessary if I could just fabricate a vision to fill in the blanks? Cassandra has yet to ask me about what I saw concerning the Lord Seeker and I think she is honestly afraid to. 

“Well, we must look into it,” broke in Cullen. “I’m certain not everyone in the order will support the Lord Seeker.” I smiled softly at him. He had so much faith in his brothers and sisters to see the order the way he came to see it. In truth there were still plenty of templars around Thedas protecting the people or what was left of the Circles, but none of them knew how very soon, many of the templars would lose their own ability to decide for themselves. I suddenly felt sick about cutting off Maxwell’s chance to recruit them and about nonchalantly dooming them to pain and slavery. Did they really make their own beds? Surely not all of them deserved that fate. Ser Barris would have proven to be a good man…

“The Herald could always ask the mages in Redcliffe for help instead,” supplied Josephine, speaking to my fears.

Cullen rounded on her. “You think the Mage Rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!”

Maxwell shook his head. “Grand Enchanter Fiona visited me in Val Royeaux,” he announced. 

“She _did_?!” Cassandra was shocked. I actually forgot that she wasn’t there during the meeting and that Maxwell hadn’t really discussed it with anyone except for me.

He nodded. “She invited me to meet with her in Redcliffe.”

Josephine also nodded, thoughtful. “We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.”

Cassandra shook her head. “They are powerful, ambassador, but more desperate than you realize.”

Maxwell appeared thoughtful now. “You think it could be a trap?”

“If some among the rebel mages were behind what happened at the Conclave…” she suggested.

Josephine interrupted with, “The same could be said about the templars.”

All five turned to me again and I shrank back more, shaking my head. Cullen sighed. “True enough… Right now, though, I’m not certain we have enough influence to approach the order safely,” he said opening the War Room door and stepping inside.

Cassandra and Josephine followed discussing other options and gaining more agents.

Leliana stayed behind a moment with the two of us. “There is another matter I’d like to ask you about.”

I had to stop myself from blurting out the Grey Wardens. “Yes?”

“Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to Orlais, but they had also vanished. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is…”

“Suspect,” I concluded. She nodded. “You want to know if I’ve seen anything about Grey Wardens?” She looked at me expectantly. I tried to look like I was thinking back, trying to remember, but really I was considering the implications of letting her know something now. For one, we might never reach out and find Blackwall, then there was the possibility of circumventing Hawke and the Warden (probably Stroud). But if we _did_ circumvent that, we might reach Adamant earlier and maybe even stop the Wardens before their force got too big… But then the fear of the unknown gripped me again. Moving into completely uncharted territory was terrifying when it meant putting the Herald’s life at risk. If we lost him… all of Thedas would be lost and my only way home as well. So I decided, for now, that I would try to follow the storyline as close as was reasonably possible, making changes only when I thought it would have minimal effect on the Herald. “I’m sorry, I cannot recall.”

She sighed then turned to Maxwell, “Then I need you to look into word of Wardens’ movements along the Storm Coast. Discover why they are there, and if you find them, find out why they have suddenly disappeared. If they do not offer that information freely, then bring them back to Haven.”

I stood a little stunned. That was… somewhat different. No Blackwall? I decided to observe and wait. If Leliana didn’t pursue the Blackwall thread in her investigation, I could easily suggest it with another vision.

The three of us joined the others in the war room who were still debating the merits of the templars over the mages and how nonsensical both seemed to be at the moment. Leliana entered last and shut the door behind her. The other three looked up at us as we entered.

“Now that we’re out of earshot,” started Cullen. “Would you care to explain just _what_ you were thinking?” I looked around and realized they were all looking at me. “Do you have any idea how many different ways you could have been captured, arrested, or _killed_? What if the Mothers and their templars misconstrued your actions and tried to arrest you or kill you on the spot? By some divine will of the Maker, you survived _that_ and _then_ you confront the Lord Seeker to his face, _in front of_ his templars!” Cullen’s voice was rising as he kept talking. It reminded me of Maxwell’s outburst immediately following my actions.

However, instead of having to defend myself like I did then, Maxwell spoke up for me this time. “She had no time to think about it. The templars were marching up the platform and we all thought they were there to support them. The attack would have blindsided everyone. She was the only one who saw the danger to the Revered Mother.”

“To which the Mother was very grateful,” added Cassandra.

“The Chantry is pacified for now,” agreed Josephine. “They are currently meeting, trying to decide how to proceed with the discovery that the man who can close rifts is being guided by a woman with visions. Many still argue that this only proves our heresy, but it has given some to doubt. They argue among themselves for now, being careful about any more public proclamations until they can decide how to proceed.”

I thought about the table missions. Especially the one about dealing with the Chantry. All the options had the chance of failure, but the diplomatic route would most likely have the most positive outlook in the months - or years - to come. If we wanted to continue building a relationship with the Chantry, we'd need to be careful about our decisions. Our choices would have a much more nuanced and cumulative impact than could have been possible in a game.

“We should send aid to those in the Chantry who support the Inquisition. Because of the Herald’s actions in the Hinterlands, and with what happened in Val Royeaux, the people already view the Inquisition as peacekeepers. They should see us openly supporting those who are willing to accept our aid. At best, it will pacify more of them. At worst it will cause them to fight internally which will only reveal our biggest detractors,” I explained before turning to look at Leliana meaningfully.

“That is… not a bad idea,” replied Josephine with an open smile. I smiled a bit uncomfortably. She would say that... it would have been her idea.

“No. It is not,” agreed Leliana with a small smirk.

“So what do we do now?” asked Cassandra.

Maxwell looked thoughtfully at the map. “I will begin my investigation into the Wardens in the Storm Coast and look for ways to expand our influence as I go.”

“When do we leave?” I looked over the map, mentally packing for a very wet trip. However, I was pretty excited to meet Bull… 

I noticed Cullen moving to object, but Maxwell spoke first, surprising all of us. “ _Cassandra and I_ ,” he clarified, “will leave in a couple of days. I will be taking Varric and the Senior Enchanter with me,” he concluded, looking at me pointedly.

“What?” I asked, shocked. Why the hell didn’t he want me to come? Did I lose his trust already? “Why?”

He looked sad for a moment. “You almost died, Sophie…”

“But I _didn’t_. You and the others protected me.” I turned to Cullen now. “That was the whole point of bringing Cillian wasn’t it?”

“It has become obvious that the both of you would benefit from additional training,” supplied Cullen, putting on his Commander’s mask now.

“ _Both_ of us?”

Leliana nodded drawing my attention. “Your training with Lysette remains incomplete, no? Due to the additional dangers you now face thanks to the world’s discovery of your abilities, you should be better equipped to protect yourself before venturing back out.”

Cullen nodded. “And Recruit Glass will need some additional training as well if he is to remain on your service.”

Leliana nodded in agreement. “Due to your sudden and increasing reputation, it may be wise to assign you another guard as well.”

I looked at Maxwell sullenly. He appeared to be in agreement. A part of me agreed with their logic - and I was still incredibly terrified about what had happened in Val Royeaux - but I still very much would rather be out there helping so that I could find out more about how to get home. It seemed that every step I took towards achieving that goal, I found myself facing yet another obstacle due to my lack of foresight - an embarrassing irony given my new title as prophet...

They started talking about their trip to the coast while I glowered at the map. I hoped Maxwell wasn’t losing faith in me. Val Royeaux was a mess. I purposefully waited until the last minute to ‘have a vision’ and then it all blew up in my face by changing things. I thought back to the first conversation he had with Solas on the ship when they thought I was asleep. I wondered if he was leaving me behind now because he thought my visions were unreliable. I looked up at him, watching him discuss with Leliana the evidence she received so far from her scouts about the Storm Coast - evidence that was currently incomplete due to cut off communications... 

Then I remembered the Storm Coast quest. It was two actually. The Herald would arrive to investigate the Wardens, but is then immediately side tracked by another quest. I looked at the map… speculating whether or not it was too late. Gripped by a sudden panic over wondering if I could still prevent more deaths, I gasped out and grabbed the table to stabilize myself.

Well, I tried to grab the table...

Instead I missed, my fingers just barely grazing the surface before it fell away. Or rather, _I_ fell away as I lost my balance and landed resoundly on my ass. I squeeked in surprise, but tried to maintain my cover. I pulled my knees into my chest and put my hands in my hair.

I heard Josephine gasp in surprise and call out my name and footsteps rush closer to me. I felt a presence kneel now behind me and hands on my shoulders. When I opened my eyes, Cullen was kneeling in front of me a few feet away, his amber eyes flickering with worry. “Are… are you alright?” he asked in a whisper.

The hands at my shoulders slipped down my back and under my arms, lifting me off the floor. One hand remained on my back while Maxwell shifted into my vision at my left, looking over my shoulder. “Any more pain?” I shook my head. “What did you see?”

“ _That_ was a vision?” cried Josephine. “Maker that was _terrifying_.” 

Cullen nodded in agreement, standing up in front of us. “Do you… need anything?” he asked. It was odd how soft and timid his voice suddenly became. He looked frightened.

I shook my head. “I’m fine now.”

“What did you see?” Leliana echoed.

Then I remembered myself and panic came back. I pointed at the Storm Coast. “When did you send your scouts to investigate the coast?”

“A couple weeks ago. Why?”

“And has Harding lost contact with some of them yet?” I asked, hopeful.

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “This morning.”

My hope faded and I paled. “Dammit!” I shouted, pounding my fists on the table causing the tokens - and everyone in the room - to jump. I could have saved them if I had done something sooner. They didn’t have to die. It would have been an easy fix, a simple one with relatively little effect on the timeline. But I didn’t and now people were dead or going to die. I thought about all the other actions I could have tried to stop. I could have used my visions to send an envoy to the mages. I could have had Cullen write to the templars sooner, had him warn templars like Ser Barris about what inconsistencies to look for in his leadership. But I didn’t do any of that, and now it was too late. Alexius has already gone back in time to gather the mages. Lucius has the templars sequestered away and will not let the Inquisition anywhere near them until he deems Maxwell important enough to control. I wasn’t making _anything_ better. I shoved off the table hard and paced towards the wall. “Why am I always so damn _slow_?!”

Maxwell grabbed my arms to stop my pacing and get my attention back. “Sophie, stop. What’s wrong?”

I turned to Leliana and looked at her moresely. “Your men are dead.”

Maxwell let go of me like I burned him. Leliana glowered back. “How?”

I sighed and moved back to the map. “A bandit group called The Blades of Hessarian. They--”

“ _The Blades of Hessarian?_ ” interrupted Cullen. “Why would bandits name themselves after the sword that killed Andraste?”

“They weren’t always bandits. They were a group of lost souls that thought they were serving Andraste--”

“By killing agents of the Inquisition?” Leliana was the one that interrupted this time. 

I tried to be patient with them and continued. “They had a strict code. Someone joined, took advantage of that code, challenged their leader. He killed their former leader and they were all honor-bound to follow him.”

Cullen let out a snort. "’ _Honor.'_ Killing and pillaging isn’t honor.”

I leveled Cullen with an irritated look. “One could also say the same, Commander, of the templars, could they not?”

Cullen sputtered for a moment. “That… that’s different.”

In spite of his recent softness, I felt my unresolved irritation towards him come to the surface. “Is it? Do templars not swear an oath to serve? Did _you_ not serve, following the orders of your last Knight-Commander, even when you at times knew it was wrong?” He looked away, his face flushing. I felt a little bad at my sudden outburst, and tried to change the subject back onto the mission. “Listen, one of them leaves a letter and a map behind for Maxwell to find. They want him to challenge their leader and free them.”

“What happens if I challenge him?”

“You kill their leader and then they follow you.”

“Its that simple?”

“Its that simple. And they’d be happier following the Herald of Andraste instead of some slimy bandit who was using them for his own gain.”

“And we’re just supposed to ignore the men they killed?” asked Leliana.

“I can't tell what is right here, but only that the matter isn’t as simple as it appears. The choice is yours. If you want to kill them, their camp is here,” I said, pointing to the small valley on the map. “If you want to recruit them then you can have Harritt construct the Mercy Crest before you leave.”

Cassandra appeared thoughtful. “We _do_ need more agents.”

“But they also _killed_ some of ours,” reminded Cullen.

Maxwell looked to me, a little helpless. I felt bad for him, but I also needed to make sure he remained his own person. He was no longer a ‘playable character’ for me to control. I needed to back off and let him decide. “It’s your choice, Herald. You’ll know what to do.”

He sighed and looked at the map. “This is important and we shouldn’t wait. I will leave for the Storm Coast tomorrow and decide once I’ve seen everything for myself.” He turned to me again. “Was that all you saw?”

“What about the Wardens?”

I made a face, again trying to not sound too knowing. “I saw some empty camps. I’m not sure if you find any Wardens there, but there is one other thing. A mercenary group sets up a fight with some group of Tevinter agents--”

“Tevinter?” asked Leliana, surprised, looking at Josephine. I sighed at the interruption again.

Josephine spoke up, answering Leliana's unspoken question. “There have been some stirrings, but this is the first I’ve heard of Tevinter actually _in_ the south.”

“Anyway, they're hoping you’d hire them. They’re a _really_ good group, and so is their leader - The Iron Bull - who is adamant about joining the Inquisition.”

“Why?” asked Leliana, her eyes narrowing, calculating.

“Because the Qun ordered him to.”

“ _What_?”

“He will straight up tell you,” I said turning to Maxwell. “He’s Ben Hassrath. He will report back to them what is going on here, _but_ only enough to keep them satisfied so they don’t send an invasion force to try to get this chaos under control.”

“A _qunari spy_ ? Is going to _lie_ to the _Qun_?” asked Cassandra in disbelief. 

“Not lie. He has faith that the Inquisition can handle it. He just wants to make sure we get the chance to before the Qun decides to invade first.”

Maxwell was shaking his head again. “But why would he just tell me he’s a spy?”

I smirked at Leliana. “Because he knows hiding it would be a bad idea. Besides, he is also willing to share his intelligence with you.”

Leliana’s hardened face melted into genuine surprise, and then intrigue. “He will?”

I nodded. “He will.”

“Well this is certainly a lot to think about…” said Maxwell, scratching his fingers across his scalp.

“I think in the case of this Iron Bull, we would be remiss not to let him join.”

Maxwell looked at me for a few moments before nodding. “Alright.” He turned to the others and let out a long breath. “Lets break for now. We’re all probably tired from the journey and I’d still like to discuss some things with Enchanter Vivienne and this Sera before I depart.”

I tapped the inside of Maxwell’s elbow gently as he turned to leave. He turned back and gave me a questioning look as the others left. I glanced at them then back at him, silently telling him to wait. When we were alone he finally spoke up. “What is it, Sophie?”

“The Iron Bull will be a great asset to the Inquisition,” I started.

Maxwell nodded. “I believe you and I plan to let him join.”

I nodded, examining his face a little longer. He seemed earnest. “Good. You should know though, that the Qun can be very demanding of its followers. The Iron Bull lets people think he is Tal Vashoth and he is a good liar.”

“Sophie… is there anything I should be worried about?”

 _Not unless you kill his humanity_ , I thought darkly. “No. But you should still understand that in the Qun, he is taught to follow the lead of those he serves. This will be a unique situation for him. He will end up serving both you _and_ the Qun. I sense this Qunari has formed attachments… a behavior not usually condoned by the Qun. It may be acceptable and part of his cover, but when push comes to shove, I believe he will do the right thing.” I know that Bull will be heavily influenced by Maxwell as they journey together, and if given the chance, Maxwell can give him the means to free himself from the Qun. I only hope that when the time came, Maxwell would understand what I was trying to tell him.

Maxwell pulled back, looking at me with a strange expression. He chewed on the inside of his cheek - something I noticed he did when he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure. Finally he opened his mouth to speak. Shut it. Then started again. “Sophie… when you have these visions, how is it that you can intuit so much about the people in them?”

I bit my lip. Had I revealed too much? Could I explain my way out of this? “I don’t know…” I finally said. “When I see them it just _feels_ like I know them.”

“Is that with everyone you see?”

I shook my head, lying to him again. “Time will only tell why some of these people feel so important.”


	17. Prophet's Laurel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I've been struggling over the last couple of months with life and depression. From family members getting COVID and ending up in the ICU to feeling trapped in my job and questioning my career choices, it's been difficult to focus on writing. When I started I had a 25 chapter lead on what I had actually already written, and now I'm down to a 9 chapter lead. It took me about two months to finish chapter 26, but I have to admit I kind of love it now and I'm glad it took me as long as it did. 
> 
> I hope I am finally out of my old "funk" and back to furiously writing again :) I do have this work (and the next one!) mostly outlined and planned. I'm also quickly approaching the part in the story I am dreading to write because of how emotional its going to get, but all of your comments and kudos have really breathed new life into this project for me, and for that I thank all of you. xoxo

Due to my vision about the missing scouts, Maxwell pushed up his trip to the Storm Coast, and just as he’d said, he, Varric, Cassandra, and Vivienne were to leave the next morning. But before that, when Maxwell and I left the chantry together, we were greeted by a familiar face. I nudged him with my elbow, pointing to the mercenary looking about a bit helpless with a nod of my head. I knew it had to be Krem, so I leaned towards Maxwell and whispered, “The Chargers.”

He nodded, looking over to the man struggling to get a scout’s attention. When Maxwell approached, Krem turned his attention to him, holding out his hands, trying to get him to stop. “Excuse me. I’ve got a message for the Inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

“I’ll take the message,” he offered amiably. Really when was Maxwell _not_ amiable or charming, I thought to myself with a shake of my head.

“We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

Maxwell turned to me briefly with a humorous smirk. “Ah. I was wondering when you’d show up. We’ll be interested in seeing you work. Set up a meeting.”

Krem was taken aback and stuttered. “Uh… okay. Right. Th-thanks.” He took some uncertain steps towards the gates and turned back. “We’ll... be in the Storm Coast.”

“You said that…” replied Maxwell gently, but unable to hide the playful undercurrent to his tone.

“Right…” With that Krem turned and left, but not before turning back one more time to glance back at the two of us with uncertainty. 

Maxwell turned back to me smirking openly and I was snickering behind my hand. He took a few leisurely steps towards me. “My, it certainly is fun knowing more than you should...” he said with a grin.

I kept a smile on my face for his sake, but inside my happiness took a dip. If only he knew how terrible a burden it was. I had the weight of those soldiers' deaths hanging over my head now and it _was_ my fault. I knew they were going to die and I didn't do anything about it until it was too late.

For the rest of that night, Maxwell spoke with his companions. Stopping first with the ones he requested to join him so soon after arriving back. Varric seemed amenable to the idea, always ready for another adventure to inspire him. Vivienne wasn’t too difficult to convince either since she had settled in Haven a few days before we arrived. 

Maxwell also took some time to talk to Vivienne in the chantry before seeking out Sera in the tavern. I left him to talk with the Enchanter to get to know her on his own knowing that I'd have more opportunities in the future to meet with her myself, and truth be told, she intimidated me. I knew she was a big softie at beneath that carefully constructed mask of iron, but I also doubted we'd find much in common. When he went for dinner in the tavern, however, I went with him in hopes of seeing Sera and getting to know her better since our first meeting didn’t go so well and she didn’t really speak to me after the language incident on the way home. That was a meeting I'd already screwed up and I wanted to fix it. Unfortunately, Sera quickly found an excuse to _not_ be there. Even after traveling with her from Val Royeaux she still seemed weirded out by me. It certainly wasn’t Maxwell because she’d never had that many issues with the Herald during the games before - at least not to the point of being squeamish in their presence. No, it had to be me. I decided I would try to talk to her while Maxwell was away.

* * *

I woke up early the next morning to see them off at the stables. Maxwell was just leaving the smithy when I approached, wrapped in a thick overcoat. As I approached, he walked over to his chestnut mount and opened the saddlebag, placing inside a small metal object that glinted green in the morning light. I smirked at him when his eyes lifted to meet mine. He smiled back while patting the saddlebag gently. “Still not sure if I’ll use it yet, but its better to be prepared.” 

I walked up to the other side of the horse, taking a moment to give him some attention and gently brushed my hands down his flank. I looked back up at Maxwell again who was still standing opposite of me. “How long will you be gone?”

“It’ll take about a week to travel. Then it all depends on how long it takes us to scour the coast for signs of the Wardens.”

“If it helps, I only saw three separate camps in my vision.”

“No directions this time?”

I shook my head. Honestly I couldn’t remember where the camps were, just that there were three.

He sighed. “Is it even worth going? You said the Wardens might not even be there.”

I shrugged. “The camps appeared messy and things seemed to be left behind. You might find something there that will help you and Leliana in your investigation.” There honestly wouldn’t be anything substantial left behind to act on, but the missives would prove useful for Leliana in figuring out that something was indeed going on with the Wardens and perhaps set her back on the course to seeking out Blackwall.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Well, if you saw it in your vision then there must be something worth finding.” I looked down and tried to smile, but I was sure it looked more like a grimace. How everyone seemed to believe me when I couldn’t get a handle on my guilt was a miracle in and of itself. Maxwell must have misread my expression because he sighed and quickly added in a soft tone, “You know I wish you could have come.”

Honestly, I had been surprised that Maxwell was so ready to sideline me yesterday in council, but now that I thought about it. I was _glad_ that I wasn’t heading back out with them just yet. Val Royeaux was tiring and difficult. I had done so many things that I couldn’t take back anymore. Solas warned me that if I was to face my fears, I needed to begin confronting the truths that I was afraid to face. I needed to accept that Thedas wasn’t just some fantasy; it was real. I also needed to face the idea that I could very well be stuck here for a long time to come. The fact that this all was no longer just a game that I could walk away from became shockingly clear after the attack. If I was to survive here, truly survive, I needed to stop treating this like as a game and treat it for what it was - a battle against a world-ending cataclysm that had everyone running scared and fighting each other.

I knew some of the details of what was to come, but the more I stayed here, the more it felt like I only had the ‘Cliff Notes’ version of the story and was still lacking so much understanding. Maxwell and Solas made comments about my insight, but how much of that was my own understanding of _Earth_ history? Thedas - while in many cases _was_ still a mirror to Earth - was not the same. Or at the very least, it was more like the Middle Ages and I only had my understanding of history to help me there. I never lived it. Now I was.

I nodded. “I understand.”

Maxwell didn’t seem convinced, looking at me with one corner of his mouth pinched. “You’re not ready yet,” he pressed. “You’re too important to the Inquisition to put you in danger unprepared. I really thought I could protect you, but apparently I was wrong.” He looked down. Suddenly unwilling to make eye contact. “We weren’t enough.”

My chest tightened both from seeing the look on his face and with the very real fear that he was right. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I get it. I don’t want you to focus on protecting me and not yourself. You’re more important than I am and the danger to you is even greater.”

Maxwell gave a lopsided smirk. “There you go again, vastly underestimating your worth.”

I shook my head vehemently. “Maxwell,” I urged. “Without me, you still have the mark. You can still close the Breach and find who was responsible for it.”

“But you can see the future. _My future_. Surely even you can see the Maker’s hand in this…” 

I winced. Maxwell had so much faith in the Maker, in the Inquisition, in _me_. But I wasn’t part of this world. I wasn’t a child of his Maker, and I was pretty sure that my being here in Thedas was all some cosmic joke, not divine intervention. 

“Listen to me, Max. I am no greater than any other advisor. You saw what happened when I changed what was supposed to occur.” I took a deep breath and steeled myself. I was unsure if whether or not what I was about to say would ruin my chances of the Inquisition seeing me as invaluable enough to bring with them to Adamant, but if we were to win this, Maxwell needed to be the man that would come to be the great adversary to Corypheus, Magister Sidereal, Conductor of the Choir of Silence, and first Darkspawn - a true and terrifying nightmare. I had to remember that this wasn't just a story, a game for me to play and replay. It was very, very real and Maxwell needed to believe in himself and his own choices in order to stand up against him. “You need to start trusting yourself and your own choices. _You_ are the one out there in the field. _You_ are the one having to make split-second decisions that affect the Inquisition and the world beyond. You need to have more faith in yourself and less in me.” Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Promise me, Max,” I pressed.

Suddenly his face changed and he shook his head in a much lighter motion and chuckled. “Maker, you’re so much like her.”

I was taken aback and confused by his sudden remark. “Like _who_?”

“Evie. For one, you and her are the only ones to call me Max, and the two of you are also the only ones who seem to know what to say to put me in my place. This is, what, the third time now that you’ve told me exactly what I needed to hear?” He winked suddenly. “Whether I’ve wanted to hear it or not.”

I was relieved that he seemed to be taking my words to heart, flattered that he compared me to Evelyn, and confused as I tried to think about the other times he was referencing.

“Well, if you won’t let me worry about you because of your value to the Inquisition, will you then let me worry about you because of your value as a friend?” he asked, breaking my thoughts.

“I…”

I stopped and clicked my mouth shut after realizing I was gaping after uttering the single syllable. I tried so hard to fight against us being friends. The moments I realized I was letting him in I lashed out and pushed him even further back. The angry voice that screamed against getting close to anyone here was becoming smaller and smaller as the reality of Thedas sank in. But now the little voice in my head was asking if I was good enough got louder. How much of his interest in my friendship was due to the lie I had created? Would he have even noticed me if I was still just a healer? Would he have cared? Then there was the admission he’d just made. I reminded him of his sister - the only one he seemed to have any happy memories of back home. Was I just a replacement for her? Or was it because he enjoyed _my_ company? 

Running underneath all of these thoughts was the bitter reminder that Maxwell didn’t truly _know_ me because I wouldn’t - couldn’t - let him. Many of the aspects of who I was were shaped by my world. I could use some of those aspects of my beliefs and values to influence others here, but as I’ve also discovered, many of my words and ideas were alien to them.

The fact remained that I _needed_ Maxwell. He would become one of the most powerful men in Thedas. He also bore the mark that seemed to be my best and only hope of returning home. I nodded and replied softly. “Of course.” Then my gaze hardened with a withering look. “As long as you don’t do anything stupid like getting hurt worrying about me instead of yourself.”

He laughed and shook his head, hoisting himself up onto his horse. I could barely make out the comment he made to himself, muttering, “Just like her…” When he was situated on his horse he looked back down at me. “Keep training and I will check in on your progress.”

I smirked and bowed with exaggerated movements. “As you say, my Lord Herald.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and then glanced behind me. I turned to see Cullen walking up behind us. He bowed his head respectfully when Cullen stopped next to me. “Commander.”

“Herald,” replied Cullen, mirroring the gesture. “Scout Harding will wait for you at the forward camp. Leliana has already informed her of the situation with the failed rendezvous.”

“Good. We will join her as soon as possible and send back word when we’ve handled the situation.”

Cullen nodded and stepped back with me as Maxwell gripped the reins and turned his horse. “Maker bless you and speed you on your way,” he said as Maxwell joined his companions.

I waved at them as they left. Maxwell glanced back to see my farewell and returned it. Varric caught the movement and waved back as well. I smiled, feeling good about the help I had provided. I gave him just enough information to help him work through the coast faster, but avoided taking away his agency to make his own choices - except with Iron Bull of course. That I wouldn’t leave up to chance. He’d need the help of all of his companions in the time to come, but with the Blades, he could choose how to handle that situation. Personally I felt that they deserved another chance. They were all like lost children who had been gathered up by a well-meaning leader who would help them find a place to belong. Then some asshole came along and took over. They needed to be led by someone like Maxwell, but ultimately it would be Maxwell’s choice. I wouldn’t begrudge him choosing differently. They had done more than just murder Inquisition soldiers after all. I swung my hands at my sides while I was thinking, then abruptly turned on my heel to go see if Beatris and Giselle needed help.

Behind me, I heard the sharp grumble of a throat being cleared. I turned to see the commander still standing there. “Lady Sophia, a word?”

I turned fully to face him. “Commander?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“I was asked to invite you to our next meeting.”

“Oh…” That was surprising. Maxwell had already left. Did they hope I’d have another vision? “Really?”

“Well you _are_ an adviser,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, I thought that was all for show…”

“Well, I suppose… I mean, you’ve given useful insight… What I mean to say…” He stopped and sighed. “Maker, perhaps its best if Josephine explains.”

He was watching me, looking completely helpless, but he was scanning my face, so I tried to smile at his fumbling even though I was sighing inwardly. Could he really _still_ be uncomfortable around me? He did just invite me to the council, but then he made it sound like it was Josephine’s idea. But still, he was fine until I questioned why. 

I suddenly thought of Sera and her discomfort around me. I decided that I would try to let her get to know me and avoid freaking her out. With Cullen, he _knew_ about the influence of the Fade in me. Then after that I admitted that I knew about future events out of nowhere, and then I faked a vision in front of him even knowing that they scared the crap out of those who saw it. He actually _did_ have more reason to fear me, but I’ve been so angry with him about it. I was being much more reasonable about Sera’s aversion of me than Cullen’s. Why was his discomfort bothering me so much?

I looked at him to notice he was getting more and more uncomfortable the more I stood there stuck in my own thoughts, so I smiled at him more gently and nodded. “I’ll be by after I visit with the Revered Mother.”

He seemed to visibly sigh as his shoulders relaxed and he nodded his head. “Right. I’ll just let the ambassador know to expect you,” he said before bowing his head again in a nod and walked past.

I thought about his body language as I watched him go. Standing there in front of me while I admittedly got lost in my own thoughts again, he seemed disquieted and tense. But when I acknowledged his request, he relaxed. _Before_ leaving my presence. Marching for the gates, he was the self-assured commander again. His gait was long and measured and he nodded confidently to his officers as he walked past the camp.

If he was truly uncomfortable by my presence, I needed to offer him the same courtesy that I was hoping to extend to Sera: patience. I would need to work with him much more in the coming weeks - even months. Ultimately it would depend on the approval of everyone for me to take a more active role out in the field and seeing as he oversaw training, I’d most likely have to meet _his_ standards before I could convince Maxwell to take me out again. I needed to find a chance to offer an olive branch. Lately most of our conversations had been us bickering at each other about the mages or the templars and mine or Maxwell’s decisions. Perhaps discussing my training could be a good opportunity to find a common ground. Maybe even assisting them more with war table missions would help too. I’d have to be careful about not making it sound like I knew things I shouldn’t, but I didn’t want to always have to rely on my visions. I could reason through the “potential” consequences of their choices without sounding omniscient and when I couldn’t, I could agree with the advisor proposing the best course of action and change the balance of the decision among them.

Before that, though, I needed to see Mother Giselle. Before we left for Val Royeaux, she had asked Beatris to begin training the rest of the sisters in my methods. I wanted to drop off my supplies and see how that training was going. I also wanted to see if Threnn or Adan would be willing to oversee the mass production of soap, but first I needed to check with Giselle to make sure it wouldn’t be considered blasphemous since the sisters mostly used it in their ‘cleansing’ rituals.

When I got to the infirmary I was surprised to see a crowd outside the door. A beleaguered looking sister stood outside with her hands up. When she caught sight of me, she seemed to sigh with relief, waved a hand in my direction, and loudly declared, “The Lady will be with you all shortly!”

I stopped short, my eyes wide. As the crowd caught sight of me, they began to rush forward to surround me. I tried to make sense of what they wanted, but I could feel the beginning of panic take over. They were all pushing each other to get my attention. They were all very close. Too close. I was suddenly and terrifyingly aware of being trapped. _Again_. An arm slung across my chest, a massive crowd pushing and pulling… it could have been exactly the same if my sudden terror was any indication. Voices started to blend together into unintelligible sounds - as if my head were underwater. My chest began heaving and I barely registered the hand gripping my arm tightly and pulling me. 

Once I cleared the crowd, I felt like I could take a breath again. There were soldiers standing by the crowd with their arms out pushing the villagers back and ordering them into a line. I turned to find Lysette gripping my arm tightly and shaking her head as she pulled me towards the infirmary. She glared at the sister as she walked in and finally let go of my arm and turning to face me. “You need to be more prepared now for people clamoring for your attention, Sophia.”

I just gaped at her for a few moments trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yesterday when I arrived, everyone stayed at a respectful distance, but this morning was completely unexpected. It was terrifying. My spine felt like it had seized up in anticipation of a knife in my back or at my throat.

Lysette still had a stern look on her face. She pointed her finger back at the door, indicating the still-waiting crowd outside. “Situations like that are perfect for someone who means you harm to approach you.”

Finally my voice came back to me. “You think I didn’t realize that?” My chest was still thundering and burning from the sudden shock and terror. I had been completely aware of how much danger I was suddenly capable of being in.

Lysette’s gaze softened. “We’ll have to figure out a safer approach to the infirmary in the future, and perhaps it would be best for the Commander to assign a guard to you in Haven as well,” she said echoing Leliana and Cullen from the previous meeting.

A couple weeks ago, my knee-jerk reaction would have been to chafe at being followed around and watched, but I was surprised to find _relief_ at the idea. I nodded my head weakly, agreeing. “That might be best…”

“My Lady Sophia!” exclaimed a warm, Orlesian accent. “It is good you are here!”

Lysette nodded silently and stood quietly by the door as Mother Giselle approached, trying to pull on my training as a nurse to compartmentalize my own issues in order to focus on the patients. “Mother,” I greeted warmly. “I see you are quite busy this morning. Is everything alright?”

“People have come from the surrounding villages after hearing tales from Orlais. They’ve come hoping to be healed by ‘Andraste’s touch.’”

I physically recoiled at the implication of her statement. “ _What_? I’m _not_ Andraste!”

“They know that,” she said with a warm chuckle. “But, my dear, many see you as an agent of the Maker’s will, much like the Herald. They have heard of your abilities as a healer, and while _we_ know that your healing in based in knowledge and skill, they would like the believe it is something more divine.”

“B-but it’s not!” I cried. All this work and effort to teach the sisters to rely on empirical evidence and not superstition, and everyone was so quick to rush to the conclusion that the _Maker_ gave me the ability to heal. It was so frustrating.

Mother Giselle seemed to sense my annoyance and looked at me sympathetically, placing a hand on my arm gently. “Should that matter if you are still equipped to help them?” I couldn’t help the withering look that screamed _Yes_! If people kept relying on superstition and tradition to practice medicine, their luck will eventually run out and they’ll face a pandemic much like the plague back on Earth. The Revered Mother seemed unmoved by my stare and continued. “For centuries, the people have relied on the Chantry to see to their physical and spiritual needs. Suddenly a woman - who claims to be common just like them - emerges from the Fade. Stories have spread about how you healed the flux, healed a tooth that otherwise should have been removed, and with a gentle touch, healed a broken arm - all without magic.”

“I didn’t _heal_ anything. That was just good hygiene, proper nutrition, and an understanding of anatomy and medicinal herbs.”

“Again, _we_ know that, but the people cannot just replace their faith that easily. You’ve been divinely blessed with foresight about the Herald. Is it really difficult to imagine that the people would find your other abilities equally blessed?”

I glowered at her. I could see her logic and I knew fighting it would be useless, but my abilities as a nurse came from _years_ of study and practice. Having my hard work reduced to a blessing by something else just felt insulting and belittling. However, as Giselle said many times, _she_ knew the truth. For now it would have to do…

“I suppose not,” I grumbled, still looking sullen.

As if reading my thoughts, she placed an arm around my shoulder and led me further inside, whispering conspiratorially, “The sisters and I know the credit is yours, and we are grateful for everything you have done here, Sophia.” She removed her arm and turned to face me. “I know you have much more to draw your attention now, but we would be even more grateful if you could help us see to the people who have come to seek aid.”

I looked over to Lysette, helpless. She uncrossed her arms and stood up straight. “I will inform the Commander and the Ambassador that you will be delayed,” she said before turning to the door and leaving.

I turned back to Giselle. “It appears that my schedule has cleared.”

She chuckled and nodded to a sister by the door who began to allow people in with the help of one of the soldiers outside. “Thank you,” she said, waving my first patient forward.

* * *

After a couple of hours, I was finally free and making my way to the back of the Chantry with an escort of soldiers. Mother Giselle really did try to help lessen the burden on me, but it seemed that nearly everyone was there to see me. Some of them actually needed help, but some were there for the most ridiculous of things. I had to instruct one man how to trim his nails to avoid having them grow down into his toe, and I had to explain to another man that the pain he was experiencing was probably just gas and that he should pay closer attention to how or what he was eating.

The most interesting case, however, was of one man who swore that he was stung by a demon and that it left its mark on him causing him continual pain. Then he presented me with his red and swollen pinky. I examined his finger carefully. It really was excessively swollen. When I asked him when he was stung, he said it was a week ago. The swelling should have gone down and I was unaware of any venomous creatures in Thedas that would create a reaction like this without the swelling either going away with time or getting much worse. When I asked him for a description he stumbled over his explanation and contradicted himself. He was definitely lying about what injured him, so I examined his finger much more carefully. If I couldn’t determine the cause of the swelling, I could at least reduce the pressure and possibly drain any pus or blood built up. But then I had noticed something in one of his lateral nail folds and extracted what looked like a stinger - most likely belonging to a bee. I gave him an ointment to hopefully fight any infection from it having been in there for a week, but told him that the swelling should go down with the object removed.

During all of that, I had also found some good teaching moments to show the sisters some things about assessing patients and sterile procedures. I’d also talked to Mother Giselle about making more soap. She agreed that it would be important to have a steady supply to keep disease at bay since the Inquisition anticipated more and more converts in the coming weeks. She tasked the sisters with the job and was thankful for the additional supplies I brought back from Orlais.

Since the others had to wait for me to finish in the infirmary, they were all seeing to their own tasks and I was left in the empty war room waiting for the them. I stood looking over the map and tried to figure out the state the Inquisition was currently in. They had a lot of markers around the Hinterlands marking out their current operations in the area, but that was it. There was apparently still a lot of ground for them to cover.

Suddenly the door opened and Josephine and Leliana walked in together. Josephine’s face brightened as soon as she saw me and she greeted me warmly. “Sophia! Thank you for coming. I hope you slept well last night?”

She was referring to my new bed that had been delivered to my cabin after Maxwell wrote Josephine from Val Royeaux about the supplies I wanted delivered to the sisters monthly and the fact that I had been sleeping on a bedroll… The bed was actually extremely comfortable and I worried that Josephine had spared no expense, but once I settled in under the warm blankets and furs, I couldn’t find myself worrying too much over it. “It was the best sleep I’ve had since coming to Haven,” I confirmed.

She beamed happily. “I do apologize for the oversight on my behalf and I sincerely hope you will come to me if anything else is amiss in your accommodation.”

I blushed. “Honestly, Josephine, you’ve already done so much. Thank you.”

She smirked and waved her hand. “Thank _you_ , Sophia. Truly, I am only happy to see that we could finally pull you away from your work,” she teased referring to this morning in the infirmary that pushed back our meeting several hours.

I blushed. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t expecting anything like that.”

Leliana smirked from beneath her cowl. “You’ve certainly made a name for yourself recently.”

I scowled down at the table. “I didn’t ask for any of it…”

Cullen chuckled softly behind me as he made his way into the room last. “That’s what Lord Trevelyan said when he found out people were calling him the Herald of Andraste.” He started to head over to his usual spot at the other side of the table, but then stopped, seeming to think better on it and turned, grabbed a chair at the side of the room and dragged it over to the corner of the war table - where I usually stood and was currently standing. It was placed off to the side, out of the way, but close enough that if I’d felt faint - or you know… thrust myself into the throes of a vision - I had something to fall back on instead of my ass. When he finished, he walked back over to his usual spot without saying a word. I flushed at the unbidden action, finding it incredibly thoughtful while simultaneously feeling embarrassed about falling in front of them yesterday.

I cleared my throat and looked over at Josephine. “So, the Commander said you’d be able to explain why I’m here.”

Josephine sent Cullen a look before shaking her head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“My visions are limited. I won’t always be able to help you…”

“No, Sophia," interrupted Josephine with an exasperated chuckle. “You’ve already shown us you’re much more than your visions. You’ve provided some very helpful insight on how to deal with the Chantry, and your decision to intervene in Val Royeaux has granted us inroads that were not available to us before. From what you’ve said yesterday, those were decisions made _in spite of_ your visions, correct?”

“So you aren’t hoping I’ll have a vision while you all discuss your operations?”

“Maker, _no_ ,” interjected Cullen looking somewhat repulsed. I again found myself sighing inwardly and schooling my features to not show him how much his reaction affected me. I really wanted to give him a chance, but when he so visibly recoiled at any mention of my visions or the magic within me, it was hard for me to have patience.

Josephine sighed loudly, her look towards the Commander becoming more strict. “What I am sure the _Commander_ meant to say was that as helpful as they have been, we do not actively seek to put you through that again.” I turned to look at him again. Was that what he meant? His averted gaze and enflamed face gave me no clue as to whether it was shame for his prejudice being called out into the open or his fumble with communicating his actual intent.

I sighed and looked back to Josephine and Leliana. “So you want my input on your missions,” I said, showing my understanding.

“Well, yes…” replied Josephine, but she stopped, looking to Leliana for a moment.

“And no,” finished Leliana.

I was beginning to get frustrated. Was this twenty questions and I had to figure out what they wanted on my own? “Then what is it that you _want_ from me?”

“We want you to oversee the health and wellbeing of the Inquisition here at home and in missions in the field,” explained Leliana succinctly.

“And when matters call for it with our allies and interests abroad,” added Josephine.

I gaped at them. They were giving me my own purview within the Inquisition? “Wait… is this because of what I’ve done as a healer?”

“That and you have demonstrated a gift for rational thought and planning,” replied Josephine with a small nod.

I couldn’t believe it. They were trusting me not because of my “visions” but because of the changes I asked for in Haven after the whole issue with the ‘flux’ and in training the sisters. All this time, I was certain that I’d needed something dramatic to get their attention, but it seemed all they needed was someone with a rational mind who could do a job that they lacked… Did I even need my visions at all?

The small, bitter voice inside my head told me that yes, I still did. There was no way they would have come to trust me this fast, or even listened to any of my advice about the Chantry, if I hadn’t become too important to ignore. The visions gave me that. But the fact that they wanted me here for something _other_ than my visions gave me hope.

I took a quick breath to steady myself. Holy crap... It was dawning on me all over again. I was my own adviser. I would be able to help give input in future missions, but I’d most likely be facing many of my own - many that the Inquisition would have either fumbled to deal with or ignored before. It filled me with equal parts excitement and dread.

I cleared my suddenly dry throat. “So… where do we begin?”

Josephine’s grin spread across her face into a toothy smile. “Well we do have some matters to discuss at present, but first, we should talk about your schedule.”

“My schedule?”

“You will need to be more available to oversee many matters than just the infirmary,” explained Josephine.

“And there is still the matter of your training,” added Cullen, resting his wrist between his belt and the pommel of his sword.

“And we cannot forget your lessons with me. You will need to handle much of your own correspondence soon,” reminded Josephine. 

“We also need to ensure that what happened this morning does not happen again,” added Leliana.

I turned to her. She had been quiet for most of the conversation. How did she feel about all of this? Most of our interactions had been strained and I knew she still probably saw me as a tool. Was she okay with all of this? As usual, her face was a mask and she didn’t give anything away. “You mean with the crowd?”

She nodded. “You should not be that open and vulnerable. Even within the confines of Haven.”

Cullen nodded. “I agree. After the attempt on your life in Val Royeaux, our enemies may think they can also reach you - perhaps even here. This morning only served as evidence to the truth of that fact - one we should remedy.”

Josephine looked at the two, twisting her lips in thought. “It wouldn’t do well to have the Prophet of Andraste suddenly withdrawing from the people. As a woman from a common background, blessed by Andraste herself, she has given many of the people hope. She’s become a much more accessible symbol of the Maker’s love for the common man. If she were to suddenly withdraw behind the shields of the Inquisition we could lose the favor of the people.”

Leliana scoffed. “I’m more concerned with the favor we could gain from nobles and sovereigns with the promise of her help which would do us no good if she's dead.”

“Normally, I would agree,” argued Josephine, “But you’d be surprised how much popular opinion can sway even kings.”

I agreed with everyone’s points. This morning was a shock to the system. I was terrified of feeling so open and vulnerable, and since my attack, I’d never felt as assailable, but I also didn’t like the idea of no longer being able to help people in general. Even back home, when I’d been asked to become a shift manager, I refused. I enjoyed patient care and helping people. I didn’t want to get caught up in the bureaucracy and politics of the job, spending less and less time on the floor. “While I am afraid of being vulnerable, I don’t want to stop helping people either,” I explained, adding my own thoughts to the argument, as conflicted as they were.

“You wouldn’t stop helping people,” explained Cullen gently. “You would just be doing it in a different capacity, and your skills are put to much better use when given the power and ability to make sweeping changes.”

I wrinkled my nose at his logic. It was, in fact, logical and a part of me acquiesced to it, but it all just sounded like one big excuse to smooth over the fact that I wouldn’t be helping people directly anymore.

“How about a compromise?” suggested Josephine. All three of us turned back to her. “We don’t necessarily need to hold a meeting every morning. We can plan to split your mornings between council meetings and overseeing the infirmary and the sisters directly. That way your afternoons would still be open for training and evening lessons with me.”

Leliana nodded her head as she explained. “That should allow the people to still see her acting on their behalf.”

Josephine smiled, “And allow you to keep helping them in person.” I smiled at Josephine. She seemed to be the only one of the three who truly understood.

Cullen spoke up from the other side of the table. “Perhaps that could work, but the Prophet would need to be assigned an escort, even while in Haven.”

I wrinkled my nose at the title. I understood why in a game where when the Herald’s name was in question they often referred to Maxwell as ‘the Herald,’ but I was not at all comfortable with my title. It felt so wrong, so false, so dehumanizing. It was all based on a lie, but what felt worse is that it was used to simplify everything I was into something I wasn't and will never be. “Can we not call me that?”

Josephine pulled a face that showed confusion. “Why not? That is what the people call you much like Lord Trevelyan's title.” Perhaps she didn’t understand me as well as I’d hoped…

Instead, Cullen showed a surprising amount of understanding this time. “A name that Lord Trevelyan found very unnerving as well. It _is_ rather… larger than life.” I looked at him gratefully and nodded.

“Still, it is the title that the people have chosen to give her and it offers us even more credence than we had before,” reasoned Leliana.

I glowered at the table, trying to figure out how to explain it to them. “I understand that the people wish to call me that and I have given them enough cause to do so, but…” I looked up at them. “You all know me better than they do. You asked me to join you, not because of my visions, but because of who _I_ am. Having you call me that just feels… dehumanizing.”

They didn’t respond right away, so I scanned their faces. Josephine looked genuinely surprised at the notion while Leliana appeared to be thinking. Cullen, again surprisingly, showed sympathetic understanding. 

Josephine took a breath. “I had no idea you felt that way…”

“I don’t want my whole life to be boiled down into a single trait. I’m not my visions. I’m so much more than that and having people who have come to know me better also stuff me into the same box as everyone else… It makes me feel like I’m only worth as much as my visions, and I try so hard to be so much more than that.” I had to stop myself and suck in a breath. I didn’t want to cry, but tears began to form in my eyes as I tried to explain. I always did this and I hated myself for it. Whenever I had to confront someone over something that personally bothered me, I always ended up crying whenever I explained myself. It worked in my favor in fights with Jack since he hated seeing me cry, but even then I always felt weak and pathetic that I couldn’t stand up for myself without crying.

I finally caught an emotion on Leliana’s face during my explanation. She was exasperated. Most likely because it reminded her of our last argument, but the unwillingness to understand was what added to my frustration, and admittedly, my tears. However Josephine’s gaze softened. “You are right, Sophia. We’ve asked you to join us because of the gifts and talents that you’ve worked a lifetime to learn. I am deeply sorry for undermining that.”

Cullen nodded his affirmation as well. “And I, but, my Lady, we should return to the matter of your guard.”

I nodded - choosing to ignore the fallback on a different honorific. I tried to tell myself that he was doing it out of an ingrained sense of respect and I doubted I’d be able to change that. But he was right about the need for an escort. After the attack, I’d realized that I was an open target, even with people like Cillian and Maxwell watching out for me. It didn’t stop me from feeling sorry for Cillian though, having to follow me around all the time. “I agree that I need an escort while in Haven, but that is a lot to ask of one man.”

Cullen looked at me confused. “Why do you think it’d be only one man?”

Now it was my turn to return the look. I really hoped they weren't planning on replacing him after what happened. I was just beginning to get to know him and trust him. He did his best to protect me. What happened wasn’t his fault. “Isn’t Cillian assigned to me?”

Cullen nodded in understanding. “Recruit Glass will continue to accompany you outside of Haven, but given your increased renown, I will also add one of my veterans to your escort. However, while you are in Haven, there are many more trusted soldiers and former templars that we can assign to your detail in reasonable shifts. No one man will be responsible for your safety anymore - here or outside of Haven.”

I was actually relieved to hear that. I felt like my body visibly relaxed in a way I hadn’t realized it was incapable of prior. The aching tension in my upper back and shoulders seemed to release like a long held breath. The events of this morning truly troubled me, but now they wouldn’t be repeated and I could feel somewhat safer while I trained to better protect myself. 

“Well if that matter is settled, shall we move on to the issues in the Marches and Fereldan?” asked Leliana from her side of the table, redirecting our attention to several unclaimed markers across the Free Marches and Fereldan. I was fairly certain I knew what most of these missions would entail.

Cullen picked up the marker situated near the northern shore of Fereldan. “The Teyrn’s vigil is fast approaching is it not?” he asked, looking over to Josephine.

She nodded. “We still have not decided how to answer Teyrn Cousland," Josephine said before turning to me. "Fergus Cousland is the Teryn of Highever. He has been deeply moved by the death of the Divine and has reached out to us in regards to his intent to hold a vigil in her honor." I nodded, letting her explain what I already knew. She then turned to the others. "I can send a diplomatic attaché and some of the templars who knew the Divine to attend.”

“Or an honor guard of some of our finest officers. He was a military man during the Blight after all,” replied Cullen.

Leliana seemed to have been mulling this decision over. I knew what her response would be, but seeing her in person, thinking it over, illustrated how much she actually wished she could do more. “I know Teyrn Cousland, and I knew Justinia. I can't attend, but I could write to him.”

Josephine and Cullen seemed to be thinking over this decision as well. I knew some missions mattered how they handled it, but this was not one of them. Any well-wishes from the Inquisition would go over well with the Teyrn. But now that this wasn’t just a game, how much more could we change? A mission like this surely wouldn’t have rippling consequences, wouldn’t it? Or if it could, would I be able to use it to our advantage?

I cleared my throat, drawing their attention. “It would be wise to make a showing at the vigil after all that happened in Val Royeaux. We have hopefully put to rest the allegations that the Herald had something to do with the Divine’s death, but it would be a good idea to show us in open mourning with the people of Ferelden. However, could I suggest we also make a show to represent our commitment towards peace?”

Josephine smirked and waved her hand, welcoming me to continue. “By all means, Sophia. What are your thoughts?”

I turned to Leliana, not wanting to discount her desire to reach out to the Couslands directly. “You can still send word to the Teyrn, but why not with a military escort and a diplomatic attaché that consists of a templar, a mage, and a member of the Chantry? That way we show our deepest regret over the Divine’s death while also showing our conviction to carry on her mission for peace.”

Leliana smirked from beneath her cowl again. This one seemed somewhat less cold and genuinely pleased. “Yes. That could work to send the message that the Inquisition stands both innocent of the Chantry’s previous charges while also reinforcing our legitimacy as an organization.”

“But who would we send?” asked Cullen, looking at me earnestly, in approval.

I thought about it. We’d need people who could respect each other and show the world that we really could broker peace between the warring factions. Since I’d arrived I’d gotten to know many of the mages and former templars who came to Haven after the Conclave, but only one pair came to mind when I tried to think of who could truly respect each other. “The spirit-healer Aiden and Ser Lysette work well together. They both believe in the Inquisition deeply and would represent us well.”

Josephine nodded, her fingers to her chin. “Yes, they would be perfect.”

Cullen shook his head. “Lysette is supposed to be your trainer,” he explained, suddenly cautious of the proposal.

“I know that, but I also know that Lysette has been dying to get out into the field though she would never mention it to you. She will do whatever is asked of her, but this is one mission she would be truly honored to undertake. Hasn’t she earned that? Besides, we sit in the middle of a massive military camp and train new recruits daily. We can’t spare anyone to take her place while she’s gone?”

“She has a point,” said Josephine, looking at Cullen. “Ser Lysette has been with the Inquisition since the beginning and has served us faithfully. She would find no greater reward than to honor the Divine and further our cause.”

Cullen let out a sigh in acquiescence. “Alright. I will inform her of the news and have an officer replace her as trainer until she returns.”

Leliana brought their attention back to me. “Any thoughts on the Chantry representative, Sophia?”

I figured they’d ask me since I spent so much time with them lately in the chantry or the infirmary. “My immediate thought is Sister Beatris.”

“Not Mother Giselle?” asked Josephine, cocking her head to the side.

I needed to explain what I knew of the Mother’s background, but I didn’t want to sound like I knew too much. “Mother Giselle told me a bit about her past and some of her issues with the Chantry,” I lied. “We still want to appeal to the Chantry with our actions, and she can still be viewed as a somewhat controversial figure for her actions in Jader. While we would generally support her views here in the Inquisition, the Chantry might look more favorably on Beatris. She is gentle, soft-spoken, and kind. She is also well known and well respected in Ferelden by what I’ve heard from the other sisters. They gravitate towards her leadership and her example when the Revered Mother is not around.”

Josephine hummed. “That is a fair point. Very well, we will send those three tomorrow morning with an escort of soldiers to attend the vigil.”

Leliana nodded, her eyes lingering on me. I felt uncomfortable under her appraising eye and worried that I had said something wrong. “I will start on my letter tonight.”

Cullen replaced the Inquisition marker with a wooden one that I didn’t recognize. Was that a vine? “What is that?” I asked him as he placed it on the map.

His response was to look at a grinning Josephine for the answer. “It’s yours. Do you like it?”

“What even is it?”

Leliana answered with a smirk, eyes gauging my response. “It’s a prophet’s laurel.”

I rolled my eyes heavily at the implication of the metaphor. I apparently did not disappoint since Leliana’s smirk grew. But Josephine sighed. “It also happens to be famed for its healing properties as you well know,” replied Josephine defensively, but still with a grin.

I rolled my eyes again, but it was much lighter this time and accompanying a small smile. She did have a point and the symbolism would have been hard to pass up if I knew anything about Josephine. “That is rather creative…” I conceded. 

“I’m glad you think so because I plan to have Harritt fashion more,” she replied with a wide grin. “Anyway, I do have another matter to discuss,” she said pulling a piece of parchment out from the pile on her board and placing it on the top. “Varric wrote me a request before he left with the Herald. It seems someone has been publishing fake installments of one of his series in Antiva and he has spent quite a bit of gold with the Merchant’s Guild to find out who to no avail. He’s asked me to look into it. I could use my contacts in Antiva to pressure the publisher into giving up more information, but I am unsure if that will be the best course of action.”

“It is not surprising that the Merchant’s Guild was of little help given their strained relationship with Master Tethras. But if it is a matter of this fake author evading even the Merchant’s Guild, then perhaps the Crows might be a better choice for investigating him.”

“Or her,” interjected Cullen. “He’s found no clues whatsoever. I agree that a more aggressive approach may be necessary,” he explained, agreeing with Leliana.

I knew that either option would produce the same results, but now our choices would have more minor ripples throughout Thedas. Reality was much more nuanced and complicated than a game was capable of capturing. I knew Leliana would have no issue with hiring out the Crows whenever necessary but I wanted to minimize that for two reasons. First, I still held out hope that I could soften her myself and prepare her for becoming the next Divine, and second, I didn’t want to muddy things later when and if Zevran popped up.

“I think we should see what Josephine’s contacts can flush out. We don’t want to owe the Crows any favors later on.”

“The Crows work for coin not favors,” argued Leliana.

“I am sure they normally do, but they’d be fools to not see the opportunity that comes from getting in good with an up and coming organization. If they think we’re capable of growing in influence and power, they will want to cozy up to us and cash in on a favor later on.”

“That is the danger working with any outside organization. You could say the same of the Chantry,” countered Leliana.

I looked at Josephine pointedly. “Between the Chantry and the Crows which organization would have the best optics to the rest of the world? Sure we all know that the Chantry could be even more dangerous than the Crows, but the people see the two organizations very differently.”

Josephine shrugged and looked over to Leliana. “She does have a point.”

“Very well. Use your contacts,” concluded Leliana somewhat sourly. “Is that all for now?”

Josephine flipped through several more parchments. “I believe so. Most of the other requests require the Herald’s input.”

I noticed a marker in the middle of the Ferelden map and recalled its most probable request since Sera just arrived in Haven. “Did you receive Sera’s request?”

Josephine looked somewhat surprised. “Did she talk to you about it?”

“Hopefully she made more sense than her note,” interrupted Cullen before I could answer.

“The area is much too large to cover and I do not believe we have the resources to devote to searching for it at this time,” explained Josephine seeming to even forget her question which was fine with me because I wasn’t sure how to answer. If I said she did speak with me, there was the chance that Sera could later deny it if asked and if I said no, would they assume it was a vision? I silently thanked Cullen for his interruption and moving the conversation further.

I understood her current issue with pursuing it, and I couldn’t help much since the mission never revealed where they found the plans for the jars, but I knew at least Cullen had a solution that could work without using any resource other than money. “Surely someone has an idea to make the search go faster?” I questioned looking around.

“Well, I suppose I could send runners among the banns to see what they have heard in their lands,” reasoned Josephine.

“If the creator is peddling this weapon to fighting forces, my agents could pick up the trail,” added Leliana.

“The area is still too large,” said Cullen in disagreement, looking over the map. “If our concern is over a lack of resources and people, then I suggest we hire bounty hunters. The promise of gold will find us these plans faster than our own forces.”

Josephine nodded, her pointer curled beneath her chin. “Yes, I do believe that could work. I will draft the offers.”

“And I will send them to some bounty hunters I know would be up to the task,” concluded Leliana. “If that is all, I will get to work on my letter for Fergus.”

As we began heading for the door, Josephine called for my attention. “Sophia, I do have one more matter to discuss with you if you have the time?”

I stopped and shared a look with Cullen and Leliana as they left the room. When Cullen shut the door behind him, Josephine pulled another parchment from her stack and placed it on the table. “One of our agents, a former templar from Starkhaven, received a letter from her family the other day. They heard of what happened in Val Royeaux and upon learning of your identity they have requested more information from the Inquisition.”

A pit began to form in my stomach. Ever since I told them my actual name and they brought up Belinda and her family I knew this day would eventually come. I just didn’t expect it to come so soon. “That was fast,” I replied, somewhat bitterly.

“Indeed. But this request is different than the others. Its--”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “There’s others?”

“You’ve gained quite the renown, Sophia, and ravens are much faster than a ship. Many noble houses - as is their custom - have requested information on you. Just as they have with the Herald. But their interest in you is much greater if the stack of letters on my desk is anything to go by. You are more of a mystery and while your name is familiar in many Marcher circles, you yourself are unknown to everyone. Whenever a new player arrives in the Game, society’s upper echelons seek to know more before they begin to maneuver and vie for favors or alliances.”

“But I’m not a player in the Game,” I protested, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that tried to point out the irony.

“You can avoid the Game as much as you wish, but you will find yourself in the Game either way. If you are to avoid becoming a pawn, we will need to actively play and play it carefully.”

Now I was actually frightened. Sure, Corypheus was a darkspawn magister bent on godhood, but at least I _knew_ his plans. Being forced to play the Game with Thedas’ noble houses was much more terrifying. “I don’t know if I can play…”

“Don’t you worry about that just yet,” she soothed, coming around the table to stand next to me. “Leliana and I will help you.”

That did actually make me feel much better - not just as Ambassador and Spymaster - but because I knew that both of them had experience in the Game personally, including failures as well as successes. “Thank you, Josie,” I replied, letting my face soften to show my gratitude as I tried out her nickname for the first time.

She smiled warmly in response and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Your first step will be to decide what to do with the request from Ser Darrow’s family. The rest I can handle myself, but this one will help me with how to proceed on the rest, but this one may also be a bit more personal,” she reasoned.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Well,” she explained, removing her hand and looking a little more uncomfortable. “I know you said you don’t know anything about your mother’s family, but you did mention she wished to return to Starkhaven at one point before she died, yes?”

I nodded, realizing her conclusion. I tried to leave the potential for a connection open while also never committing to having any ties anywhere in Thedas. If it could reasonably work out that I could be connected with them I thought it could put to rest some of their doubts, but now that I had more time to think on it, I realized just how stupid and dangerous even the _possibility_ of that connection could be. I hadn’t decided how to handle that then. I still wasn’t sure, but now it seemed Josephine was asking me to figure it out and now I’d worried that my initial cover story only served to complicate matters more. “I’m not even sure I have any family out there. Is Darrow a common name? Couldn’t there be other families with the name in Starkhaven that my mother would have tried to visit?”

“While the Darrows are a minor house, their clan is quite large, so you see, they wish to know more about you to discover any lost ties. You’ve already said you don’t really know anything about your family, but it could very well be the case that your mother belonged to them,” she said softly, putting her hand on my arm again. I flinched at the way she phrased it. My real mother would have never let herself “belong” to anyone, not in the way that some circles in Thedas implied. “What I am asking is if you’d like me to find out.”

She kept her hand on my arm and looked at me with that same soft expression, waiting. The fact that she felt so sure she could find out was terrifying. Could it really be that easy for them to ferret out any ties? However, would it really hurt to let her try? In the end it would turn out to be nothing, a dead end. Would they see anything sinister in it? I told them I was a teen when my mother died. They wouldn’t hold it against me for becoming an orphan who didn’t learn anything about her family from a bitter mother… And if I did try to avoid looking into it, would it look like I was trying to hide something?

Josephine waited patiently for me to think about my options and the consequences they could have. Allowing Josephine to pursue this lead, while it could distract her for a time, would only raise more questions than answer them. When I finally looked up again she widened her smile briefly. “I’d like to respect my mother’s wishes. If she had intended for me to know my family she would have told me. I don’t know how to reply, but I don’t think we should be giving them the impression that there are any connections to be found here.”

“I understand,” she said softly with a reassuring squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Game is primarily an 'Orlesian' thing, but I extended it to being something most nobility play. Cause really... don't they? They just don't use a flippant term for it like the Orlesians do lol.


	18. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia continues to struggle with her dreams and becoming the target of a specific demon that is feeding off her fears of never seeing home again as well as her mounting anxiety over her lies. Frustrated, she seeks out help.

I was sitting across from Cillian again eating dinner. I was eating ravenously while he only picked at his food. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it like a thick fog surrounding us. I put my spoon down gingerly and looked at him. “Cillian?” I ventured softly, hesitantly.

He stabbed angrily at the meat on his plate. “What?” he asked bitterly.

I recoiled as if stung. He never spoke to me like that before. “What… What’s wrong?”

He stabbed at his meat again before throwing his knife disgustedly on the table. “You’re just a whole lot of trouble aren’t you?”

“What…?”

“I never asked for this detail. I never asked to be dragged halfway across Orlais just for you to throw yourself into dangerous situations one after the next. It's not my fault that the Commander doesn’t think I’m ready. It’s yours. You’re _impossible_ to protect! Even the Herald can’t stop you from nearly getting yourself killed!”

“Cillian…”

“No! I’m being punished for something I didn’t even ask for and it's all your fault. The Commander doesn’t even _trust_ you! The only reason anyone wants to keep you alive so badly is because the Spymaster finds you valuable. We don’t even need you!” he shouted, standing up, throwing his chair out behind him.

I turned my head to the side to flinch away from his display of anger and nervously looking around at the other patrons. He was making a scene, and if this didn't stop, others would begin to question...

It was then I noticed the bartender. It wasn’t Flissa. This wasn’t The Singing Maiden. Next to the bartender stood two familiar men. This was the Sleeping Lion! Before the two guards could make their way towards me, I bolted for the stairs, knowing this time I had enough distance to make it. I could climb through a window and find Maxwell or run for the Chantry or just hide outside the city…

Cillian stopped me before I made it three feet. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he pulled me into his chest, spun around and threw me into the chest of another man.

A very familiar man. “No…” I whispered, visibly shriveling in his grip.

“Hello, little witch,” he cooed, grinning and showing his yellow teeth. “My boss wants you dead,” he said, grabbing a fistfull of my hair and yanking my head back, pointing his knife at the base of my chin.

“Cillian, help me!” I cried out, trying to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye.

“Why? You’ve caused us nothing but trouble. You keep interfering with events and changing things. Well, you changed one thing too many and this is what you get.”

A noise came from behind the guard, so he spun me to press my back against his chest, his free arm braced across my chest. This felt familiar. Too familiar. Panic began to set in and I could barely keep focused enough to see him greet Maxwell.

Maxwell had burst into the tavern with daggers at the ready, but his blue eyes scanned the room cautiously before he put his daggers away. “Your boss is dead,” he explained calmly.

The guard behind me began to panic. “I knew this witch would be the end of him. It doesn’t matter! He wasn’t the only one! The others want her dead too!” He pressed the knife tighter against my neck and I stiffened as the blade bit into my skin.

“Go ahead,” replied Maxwell stoically.

“What?!” I cried, trying to pull against the guard’s arms.

His blue eyes shifted to me. “We don’t need you, Sophia. You’ve lied and played us all for fools. It’s better that it ends this way… before you change or ruin anything else.”

This was a dream. I knew it was a dream as soon as I noticed where we were. Why wasn’t I waking up? Why couldn’t I make all this go away?

Solas’ voice echoed in my head. _They have been testing you, finding your weaknesses. It seems it is fear._

This was the work of Fear. I closed my eyes and focused. I could feel another presence in my dream. It was the guard holding the knife.

I pulled against his arm holding the knife, shouting at him, “Let go of me, _demon_!”

My words seemed to affect him as he hesitated and in that moment I was able to pull the knife away from my neck and thrust my elbow backwards into his - it’s - abdomen. The demon released me. I ran a couple of feet away from it and spun.

“I will not fear you!” I called, standing taller.

“It is not me you fear, child,” he replied with a dark chuckle, his voice sounding like that of the guard’s still, but a deeper more menacing tone carried with it. “You fear rejection. You fear being found out. By _them_.”

When he said the last word, the others rushed towards me. I ducked beneath Cillian’s sword swinging for my head, but Cassandra tackled me to the floor. I struggled to get out from under her, but she threw me onto my back, sat on my stomach and pinned my wrists to the floorboards. “ _Liar!_ ” she spat.

“Outsider,” added Solas, freezing my legs to the floor when I tried to kick out from under Cassandra.

Maxwell strode up, pulling out a single dagger. “Coward…” he said, taking a knee beside me and Cassandra. He moved his dagger to my unguarded side, going for the space between my ribs. With the same dagger and in the same way he killed Jack in my previous dream…

“This isn’t real!” I cried out, trying to stop the scene before me. This was the same fear demon from before. I could feel it now.

“Then make it stop, _witch_ ,” glowered the demon from behind Maxwell.

Solas’ voice echoed in my mind again. _The more difficult task comes with the fears that may be based in truth…_

I _was_ a liar. I felt like I was abusing their trust, afraid of telling them the truth about who I really was. If they knew the truth and accepted me, they’d know everything I knew. Instead I was too afraid of changing everything, becoming less relevant and creating a future worse than before.

“Yes, I lied!” I called out when I noticed Maxwell’s dagger digging deeper into my side. Everyone paused and stared at me. “I lied to everyone…” I said, looking at Cassandra. “I didn’t want you to know where I’m really from and what I really know.” I turned to Solas. “I _am_ an outsider. I don’t belong here; I know that, but I’m stuck and I really do want to help,” I said before turning to Maxwell. “I know I’m weak and scared. I’m a coward, but mostly, I'm a coward because I tried to push you away instead of letting you know the real me.” As I finished, I realized the burning tightness in my throat was beginning to herald the coming of tears. However, all three of my companions looked at me a moment longer before Maxwell and Cassandra got up and stood next to Solas and disappeared. Varric, Sera, and Cillian disappeared too along with the other guards. 

I was no longer held to the floor by Solas’ spell, and as I stood the demon took its true shape and snarled. “No! Those are _my_ fears! You cannot let them go!”

“You failed again, demon. Don’t come back,” I threatened, trying to sound menacing. 

"This isn't the end!" He snarled again angrily and left on his own.

When I woke up, I was sweating. The nights were getting colder; cold enough that come morning when the fire all but died, my cabin would be freezing, so I kept my shutters closed. Right now the room felt suffocating. I threw open my shutters and took a deep breath of the cold night air.

That was another bad nightmare, but at least now I was able to identify it as the same demon who seemed to be plaguing me. I needed to figure out how to fight him, or better yet to banish him permanently from my dreams. I needed to see Solas.

I pulled my fur-lined overcoat from the back of my chair and wrapped it around me. I strode for the door, but when I reached for the handle, I hesitated. Cullen had posted guards to watch over me. I looked out the window to notice the moon dipping low. It was early morning still. Would they let me leave this early or make me wait? Could they even deny me, or would they be forced to follow me? If they did come with me, would they report my comings and goings to Cullen - or perhaps Leliana? I couldn’t decide who would be worse. Leliana would want to dig and find answers. Cullen would probably jump to conclusions about magic and demons - which wouldn’t be too far from the truth, I guess. And that was what was truly scary.

They couldn’t know. Solas promised to keep my secret while it was still safe to do so. I had to keep it too.

I just barely opened the shutter by the door, and sure enough, a guard was standing to the left of the door. I was certain that if I’d checked the other side, another body would be stationed in front of the other window as well. I turned back to the room. The window by my desk opened to a more open space, so I would probably be noticed if I tried to climb out from there. I turned to the window above my bed that I almost never opened. It faced a neighboring cottage that stood so close that all I could see was the plain windowless side of the small building. It did, however, open to a small alley made between the two buildings. From there, I could move to the back of the cabins where the palisade wall ran towards the gate.

I climbed on top of my bed and shuffled towards the small window, trying to be quiet while I braced my hands at the top of the frame and sat in the window with my booted feet dangling down the side of the cabin. I struggled with my heavy overcoat, trying to bunch it up into my lap so it wouldn’t catch on the way out, and then I leapt.

Right into a mound of snow that came up to my thighs. 

I sucked in a shocked breath and tried to stifle the whimper of surprise. The heavy snow that had apparently accumulated in the tight space between the buildings seemed to muffle the sound. As I fought to move my legs through the thick snow, using my arms to tunnel my way through, I thought about how foolish I was being. Why didn’t I wait until morning and just ask for privacy? Why was I getting myself wet and frozen just to impose on Solas? Sure he left an open invitation to discuss my dreams, but even at this ungodly hour? He did tell me to come to him as soon as I had a nightmare. Did that mean in the middle of the night?

As I finally dug my way out from in between the cabins the snow was much more shallow and I decided that I would find out. I snuck the long way around the cabins, skirting behind Maxwell’s, some officers' quarters, and finally Cullen’s nestled next to the steps that led into the upper part of the village. Even though the night was incredibly cold, I was lucky that the chill forced most people to keep their shutters closed. I climbed up on the crates between Cullen’s cabin and the steps and peaked out over the side. Both the upper and lower level were mostly deserted. The gate was being guarded, but the guards were facing outside, not inside. I had to lean far forward to see the two guards posted at my door. They were very much awake and alert, even at this time of night, but I could brace my feet against the side of the cabin and push myself up onto the side of the stairs without coming into their view.

But I kept still, waiting. There was a single guard patrol that came from the siege yard to the southwest, stopped at the gate and checked in with the guards stationed there. He stayed a few minutes, scanning the area, then turned back towards the southwest. Similarly there was a guard who passed the stairs on his way towards the tavern, but he did not come back that way again. I waited longer and he passed by again, going in the same direction - a counterclockwise circuit around the upper village.

As I waited for both guards to arrive and leave close together, a bone-chilling cold set in and I felt the stupidity of my actions once again. I was risking hypothermia just to tell Solas about a scary dream. When the uncontrollable shiver set in, I considered turning around and going back, but then the guard from the south arrived and as he left, the upper village guard also passed by. If I was going to do it, this was my chance.

So I took it. I pressed my back against the side of the steps and braced my feet against the cabin and hefted my butt over onto the steps. I quickly scrambled up and followed behind the upper village guard from a distance, hiding behind crates and barrels as I waited for him to round the tavern. I then hid behind the corner and when he cleared the steps that led up to Adan and Solas’ cabin, I darted for his cabin, ignoring the pain aching in my cold and tired limbs.

I knocked urgently on his door, hearing the rapping sound echo in the cold air around me. I turned and looked for the guard on his patrol, hoping he wouldn’t hear it and that Solas would. For the third time in such a short span, I felt like a complete fool.

However, to my relief Solas answered quickly. He cracked open his door to only reveal half of his face. He peered out into the cold night, confused and alert. Again, I worried about waking him, but when he registered me standing in front of him, realization seemed to come across his face first as surprise and then it shifted into worry. He stepped aside and opened the door fully. “Sophia, please come in.”

I walked in quickly, noting how Solas peered out into the night before closing the door behind me. I wrapped my arms around myself, willing the shivering to go away but my nightgown and overcoat were now fully soaked and my boots were full of melted snow. His fire was small but very much alive, casting enough light and warmth for one to work comfortably. I wondered if he’d been awake this entire time.

He’d noticed my shivering and I could feel a tingle in the air, he was manipulating the Fade. The fire grew in size and he grabbed the chair from his desk and placed it in front of the hearth. “Let me have your coat. I doubt it is keeping you warm any longer,” he said gently, moving behind me and reaching for my shoulders. I let him help me peel off the now damp and heavy coat. He swung the metal rod that was used for cooking out away from the fire and draped my overcoat over it while I sat in the chair he had pulled up in my also damp nightgown. I pulled the chair closer to the fire, trying to feel its warmth.

Solas knelt in front of me and held his hands out, palms facing me, and I felt the tingling again. I felt the dampness lift from my clothes and saw it rise off my body as a vapor. I still felt cold, but I now felt like the warmth of the fire could finally seep into my skin. “How did you do that?” I asked, trying to think of any spells I knew from the game that were similar.

Solas stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “I simply willed the water to enter a gaseous state. Much like how a mage creates fire or ice from nothing but his or her mana, the Fade, and sheer willpower, I willed it to do the opposite.”

I nodded, beginning to understand. My view of magic and its capabilities was very limited by the games. In reality, magic could do so much more as long as one had an understanding of the Fade and their own willpower. I looked over to my coat still hanging by the fire. “Why didn’t you do that with my coat?”

He smirked as if he had expected the question. “Magic in this world has its limits. A mage must be aware of the limitations of his or her own mana and never exceed it. While drying your coat is well within my limits, it is also important to avoid an over reliance on magic. Magic can be…” he stopped for a moment, thinking of his next words. He looked down as he twisted his lips in thought for a moment, then looked back up at me. “It can be an empowering and heady drug. If one overindulges they can become blinded by their own excess and become dangerous and arrogant.”

I suddenly knew Solas was probably thinking about the Evanuris, but I couldn’t help the smirk when I realized another connection - one I’m sure he would not approve of, but I felt that it needed to be made. “‘Magic is made to serve man and not rule over him’?” I quoted from the Chant.

Solas made a face and turned his head to the side. “The Chantry uses that line to subject mages and turn them into servants.”

“True. They have certainly followed an… _extreme_ interpretation of the words, but perhaps it started from the same observation that you have made,” I suggested.

Solas kept his head turned to the side, but the lines at his eyes softened while his lips remained twisted in thought. “Perhaps,” he conceded. He sighed and turned his face back to me. “It seems as though - in any age - people will find a way to take power for themselves and exert their will over others. No matter how well-intentioned it started,” he said, sounding wistful at the end. I knew he was thinking of the Evanuris again. His eyes landed on me and his face softened into a gentle smile. “I am sure you did not come here before sunrise to discuss Chantry politics.”

Once he brought up the unspoken reason for my visit, I knew my appearance visibly shifted. I could feel my whole body react to the memory and I could see it reflected in the worry on his face. “Was it a bad one?” he asked, picking up on my sudden stress.

I wasn’t ready to delve into my dream yet, still worried about how to approach it with him, so when my mind landed on a different question, I took the opportunity to evade the subject. “You warn not to needlessly use magic, but why then were you so adamant to heal my aches when we first set out from Haven?”

Solas gave a small, knowing smirk and I knew in that moment that he sensed my evasion, but he indulged me nonetheless. “It was a small thing to heal weakened muscles, and if I had not, your soreness would have overtaken you, the Herald would have sympathized and tried to mitigate your pain with more breaks and thus made our journey to Jader, and ultimately Val Royeaux, considerably longer,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said, trying to not sound deflated at his clinical explanation. I couldn't lie to myself and deny that a part of me hoped that perhaps he sensed something similar between us as two outsiders thrown into a rudderless Inquisition, trying to help them grasp at just the right straws in order to fight back against the darkness. In the end, he was just being as pragmatic as ever. I shouldn’t have expected anything less of Fen’Harel. I needed this reminder. Friendship with him wouldn’t be possible, not while we both kept secrets like a yawning chasm between us.

“Now,” he said, breaking me from my thoughts. “Are you ready to discuss your dream?”

I nodded, unable to find anything else to put off the conversation any longer. “It was about the attack.”

“The Fade can often force us to relive our worst moments,” he commented, seeming to relax. I wondered for a moment why he relaxed, then I realized he probably thought I meant experiencing the same event again.

I shook my head. “It was different. Twisted by Fear. Cillian, Maxwell, even you… you were all angry with me and let those men attack me. Then when I forced myself to remember that it was a dream and that I had to face my fears you all attacked me.” I looked to his face for a response, but he remained stoic, carefully listening. “I tried to come to terms with the fact that this is my life now, that I’ll never return to the life I had before, but it didn’t work this time,” I said growing frustrated with my own inability to fight effectively against Fear, but also with my inability to explain fully. How would Solas read into my fears about being an outsider and a liar?

“Fear will only show you a reflection of your own fears and anxieties. If we became aspects of Fear in your nightmare you will need to examine why he chose our images to reflect your worries back onto you. What did we say to you in your nightmare?”

I tried to remember some of the specifics that wouldn’t raise his suspicion, but if I lied about my fears with him, would he even be able to help me? How could I get help if my fears centered around being able to become fully open with the people who wanted to help me most? Maxwell tried to get to know me better in Val Royeaux and I pushed him away. Solas wanted to help me protect myself from demons and teach me about the Fade, but I couldn’t even reveal my true nature to him because he’d probably see me as a threat. Cullen and the others just wanted to protect me from this magic growing inside me, but they weren't even trying to find out what it was because they all believe it was tied to my fake visions.

I looked up at Solas, unable to contain my growing anxiety, and openly cried. “Solas, I’m so scared; I don’t even know where to begin understanding it all.”

He knelt down into a squat in front of me. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but encouraging. “Start with just one nightmare. One aspect. Choose one of our images that spoke to you in your dream. Follow that single thread and try to understand it. It may take time, but the more you unravel each single thread, the less tangled your overall fears will become. And if you wish, I will help you.” I nodded, wiping the wet trails from my cheeks. “Why don’t you start with where your dream first changed,” he offered.

I thought back. “It was Cillian. He was angry with me. He felt like he was going to be punished because of what I did. He said that the only reason anyone wanted to protect me was because of my visions and that they didn’t even need them. Even Maxwell was willing to let the man kill me, saying my death would do them all a favor before I made things any worse.”

“Ah…” he said, standing back up and placing his hand beneath his chin - a move he seemed to do quite often when he was thinking. I watched him anxiously. I knew this fear, but I didn’t know how to face it. How do I dispel the anxiety over trespassing on their lives and making changes that could make their world worse? How could I alleviate my doubts surrounding my existence in Thedas? What could I do or believe or say that would make me feel like anything less than my absence would make it better? It was painfully obvious that I didn’t belong here, and I didn’t know how to fix it. The tightness pulled at the center of my throat and I tried to fight it, but the tears came unbidden to my eyes again. I scrunched up my face to stop it, but they were forced through a wave of pain that started in my chest and worked its way up my throat and settled behind my nose and eyes. All the pain, all the fear, all the doubt, rose violently to the surface like a bubble, and it finally popped in a sob that tore painfully from my chest.

Solas knelt down in front of me again, peering up into my downcast eyes. “Sophia,” he began slowly and gently. “It is not unusual to fear the future and the unknown. You have been blessed with an extraordinary gift to see glimpses of the future, but even those privileged glimpses are not set in stone,” he reasoned. “Just as the Fade mirrors the past from different reflections, I believe that it does the same with the fractured events of the future that you have been given the ability to experience.”

“And that's what terrifies me.”

“Why? You are not all-knowing, Sophia. You cannot truly know what the future holds for we ourselves have a hand in creating it. You alone could not alter the river of destiny. You are but a single stone thrown into the coursing waters. You may immediately affect the waters around you in small ripples, but ultimately the rest of the river flows on, taking you with its strong current.”

Solas seemed to favor river metaphors, I thought to myself. I tried to give him a rueful smile, but instead it felt - and most likely looked - more like a grimace. I wanted to find comfort in his logic, but there was one thing he didn’t know. I might not be _all-knowing_ as he put it, but I did have a lot more than ‘privileged glimpses’ of the future. I knew how the events of the Inquisition’s war with Corypheus would unfold. All of it. Including the shifting possibilities depending on Maxwell’s choices. True Maxwell and the Inquisition would have a hand in shaping the future, but even with the different choices they will eventually make, their stories reach the same conclusion. Except now I am here. An unknown variable that has found herself within the Inquisition. If I was merely a pebble, the Inquisition was a mighty boulder, capable of diverting the flow of fate.

How could I possibly explain any of that to him? To get him to understand that my fears aren’t just some child’s worries about what tomorrow would bring? My fears hinged on how my mistakes could contribute to the complete unmaking of the entire world either by Corypheus or even the very man kneeling down in front of me, trying to help me rationalize my them.

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple,” I replied, sniffling to banish the moisture in my nose and throat.

“Our most dangerous fears very rarely are,” he replied comfortingly then stood. “How did you banish this demon?”

“I didn't, and the demon was the same one as before. I feel like it's getting to know me…” I looked up. “Solas how do I stop it from returning?”

“That is certainly a frightening prospect especially given that nothing in the Fade is ever really killed. You can banish it for a time, but it will always gather strength and return. You are not a mage, but your special attunement to the Fade allows you to exert a similar willpower to that of mages. While you unfortunately do not possess the ability to fight back with magic, when in dreams, you can at least fight back with your mind. You must not allow Fear to weaken your mind. You recognize your nightmares as false yet you continue to allow it to torment you. How did you weaken it’s hold on you in tonight’s dream?”

“I spoke to you, or the aspects of you, and I admitted to being everything you all accused me of. I admitted to being afraid,” I explained, hoping I didn’t need to go into more detail about exactly what they’d all accused me of.

“So you accepted your fears.”

“But I’m still afraid, Solas.”

“You cannot eliminate your fears, Sophie. You can, however, identify them and accept them. You only give Fear strength when you try to resist. That is what makes this demon especially dangerous. When we face demons like Pride and Desire, we are trained to resist the temptations to act on our baser selves, but with Fear, resistance is acquiescence. To fight Fear is to _be_ _afraid_. You must instead acknowledge your fears, accept them. Courage does not come from fearlessness. It comes from acting in spite of fear. Right now Fear keeps returning because you are presenting him with a feast. Each new fear you come to accept gives rise to several new ones. That is the nature of self-awareness. To deny your fears is to rely on pride and it will weaken you. Do you understand?”

I nodded slowly. “I have to fight him by accepting the nightmares it shows me…”

“You need not accept _Fear’s_ visions, but acknowledge the visions as reflections of your own mind and accept the root fear it is trying to exploit. How did it react when you admitted to being afraid?”

“He - it - got angry. Said the fears belonged to it - that I couldn’t let them go.”

“But did you? Let them go?”

I shook my head. “No…”

Solas nodded. “You accepted the truth of them and in doing so took away its power to haunt you with them.” Solas looked out the window and we both noticed that the sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of indigo. He held out his hand to me. I took it and he helped pull me to my feet. He patted the side of my arm with his free hand. “You may never truly be able to permanently banish this demon that has specifically targeted you - well not by any means you are capable of or even willing to try - so your best hope is to continue to frustrate it when it attempts to feed on your fears, and with any luck, it will eventually refuse to return.”

“Eventually…” I echoed, dissatisfied.

He turned and grabbed my overcoat from the rod. He held it open for me to put it back on. He continued as I placed my arms in the now very warm garment. “Nothing worth achieving ever was easy,” he replied ruefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I'd share some of my playlist songs that are most closely linked with the themes in both this story and the second one to follow. My playlist honestly has over 100+ songs and soundtracks. These are just the most influential ones. Let me know if you'd like a similar list of soundtracks.
> 
> The Skye Boat Song - Bear McCreary, Raya Yarbrough  
> Where We Come Alive - Ruelle  
> Kings and Queens - Ava Max  
> The End - Klergy  
> Can you Hear Me - UNSECRET, Young Summer  
> How Villains are Made - Madalen Duke  
> Saturn - Sleeping at Last  
> The Parting Glass - var. Artists and arrangements  
> Not About Angels - Birdy  
> Angry Too - Lola Blanc  
> Darkside - Oshins, Hael  
> Moondust (Stripped) - Jaymes Young  
> North - Sleeping at Last  
> River of Tears - Alessia Cara  
> I Found - Amber Run  
> Warrior - Demi Lovato  
> Not About Angels - Birdy  
> You Said You’d Grow Old With Me - Michael Schulte  
> Heal - Tom Odell  
> In my Veins - Andrew Belle  
> Castle - Halsey  
> A Little Too Much - Shawn Mendez  
> Human - Christina Perri  
> Read All About I Pt III - Emeli Sande  
> Broken - Anson Seabra  
> Right Here - AG, Madalen Duke  
> In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier  
> Inside - Chris Avantgarde, Red Rosamond  
> Into the Unknown - AURORA  
> Never Enough - Loren Allred  
> Anti-Lullaby - Karen O  
> Found a Home - AG, Nilu  
> The World We Made - Ruelle  
> In the End - Tommee Profitt, Fleurie, Jung Youth


	19. Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia struggles with her conflicting emotions surrounding her personal safety. She finds a distraction in Cillian.

In the graying light of early morning, it was much more difficult to return to my cabin unnoticed, but I made it back by waiting for the guard to pass and follow behind his route by about a minute or so before dropping off the steps back behind Cullen’s cabin and going back the way I came. I knew I was incredibly lucky to have not been caught, and in the future, I would have to find a way to meet with Solas privately to discuss my dreams more in a way that didn’t involve sneaking around. There was no way I could keep this up. 

I had barely arrived back when Laya showed up to revive the fire and leave breakfast for me. She was surprised and dismayed to find that I was already awake, promising to arrive even earlier next time. It took me several minutes to convince her that she shouldn’t change her routine in order to get here earlier. 

I ate breakfast quickly before heading off for the infirmary to discuss the sisters’ training while Beatris was gone. Two guards accompanied me to the infirmary and stayed inside while I spoke with Mother Giselle and helped the sisters see to the patients. It was a lot easier this morning as I didn’t see anyone personally except through training the sisters. Towards lunch, two new guards came in and remained while the other two left.

The guards followed me around all day but never spoke to me. I hadn’t seen them before except in passing, so I didn’t know what to say to any of them. It was clear to everyone though that they were there for me. In the infirmary no one would approach me unless I approached them first, with the exception of Mother Giselle. It was actually quite lonely.

When they followed me to the tavern, I invited them to go ahead and take their own lunch, but they said they had already eaten. Really I just wanted them to be nearby but not right in my business. It made me seem much more intimidating and no one wanted to approach me which was the exact opposite of what I wanted or needed right now. 

I wanted to talk to Sera. She was already skeeved out by me. On top of all the rumors surrounding me and my visions, I was now officially an advisor to the Inquisition with a guard detail. In Sera’s eyes that made me _officially_ “too big” to be considered normal. I didn’t want to appear out of touch or out of reach. I’m not some larger than life figure. Hopefully people would be able to see that and then begin to leave me alone. Sera would be my litmus test.

That and I was really looking forward to actually getting to meet her and sass right along with her, but everything had changed. I got what I wanted in order to find my best shot home: I became too important for the Inquisition to not notice. In doing so, I’d most likely ruined any chance of actually interacting with her on any real level. Another part of me also worried that I’d become a target of one of her pranks too. My first opportunity to talk with her was that first day after Maxwell had left, but it was ruined by my guards. 

When I arrived for lunch I entered from the southeast - by the chantry - I noticed Sera sitting by the opposite door (true to the game). I walked over to greet her and she immediately noticed my presence and tensed up. I paused briefly and hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, my guard approached and cut off my line of sight. 

“Milady, we have a table for you this way,” he said, waving his hand back behind me. I turned to look and noticed the other guard standing by a table near the fireplace. It was in a position that was the farthest from both entrances as well as far enough away from Flissa so that if anyone approached me, their intent to do so would be obvious. 

I nodded to him, but turned my attention back to Sera who, much to my dismay, had disappeared. I sighed and made my way over to the seat indicated by the guard. 

Lunch today was a simple plate of ram jerky and a small roll. I knew I could have at least had fruit and cheese if I had eaten with Josephine or had my lunch delivered by Laya, but I still felt awkward accepting special favors. Still, that didn’t stop Flissa or her cook from coating my roll with honey and sliding a free glass of her undiluted mead my way. I could tell she had left it undiluted because the taste was intensely more sweet than I had grown accustomed to and drinking half the cup left me with a heady, buzzing feeling.

I sat alone and ate my lunch while one guard leaned against the wall by the fireplace a few feet behind me and the other stood at the corner on the opposite side of the tavern with line of sight on both doors. It was all actually beginning to feel a little bit ridiculous now. I knew that yesterday’s display should have been a sign about how accessible I really was to people, and that it only took one day after the world found out about my abilities for someone to try to kill me, but these guards were so focused and, quite frankly, scary that they reminded me of intimidating Secret Service members. I wanted to laugh at myself for the thought, but not a light-hearted, relieving kind of laugh. More of a loathing, self-deprecating kind of laugh. It hasn’t even been one day under full guard and already I was feeling isolated.

I looked around the room to notice that many of the villagers and recruits now actively avoided my gaze. Some who ventured a glance my way shifted their gazes up further over my head before quickly sliding their eyes away. I turned behind me and took note of my guard standing there. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and a distrustful scowl on her face. When she noticed me staring, she bolted upright, replaced her scowl with a stoic mask and stared straight ahead, avoiding my gaze. Initially, I’d come to the conclusion that her presence kept most the villagers uneasy, but then her own reaction to my gaze made me begin to feel like _I_ was the one people were suddenly afraid of.

I turned back around to scan the room again, pouting. Then I noticed a familiar face and felt a little lighter. Now sitting at the table that Sera had vacated, Cillian was playing chess with another familiar soldier. I grabbed my cup and made my way over to them. Cillian glanced up but didn’t seem to pay me any mind initially, but he didn’t seem to register my presence at first because he quickly did a double-take before standing up with his fist across his chest and a startled, “My lady!”

I felt my cheeks grow warm with a flush at his sudden actions and deference and tried to hide how much it startled me with a soft chuckle and tried to tease him good-naturedly. “At ease, soldier. I’m not your commander.”

He flushed at my response and bowed his head slightly. “My apologies, my lady. I did not expect to see you.”

“I hope it's not an unwelcome surprise. May I watch you play?”

“Milady, I must insist that you return to your seat,” said the woman assigned to be my guard, coming up close to me and whispering with urgency.

I sighed and decided I needed to put my foot down with her. “And _I_ insist that my seat is here.” I turned to Cillian and his companion who I just recognized as Laurentin from my previous trainings with Lysette. “Is it not?”

“O-of course!” replied Cillian sounding somewhat uncertain of himself, reaching across the table to swat at Laurentin who took the hint and pulled out the chair next to him.

“Yes, milady, please join us.”

“Milady--” started my female guard again.

But Cillian interrupted her sounding much more sure of himself now. “She will be fine with us, recruit.”

My guard grunted in disapproval but took her place by the door that I was closest to while the other remained in his position. I took Laurentin’s proffered seat and smirked across the table at Cillian. “Look at you ordering around recruits.”

Cillian blushed and looked back down while Laurentin scoffed. “I think his new post has gotten to his head,” he said, turning my way with a grin. I felt a shifting under the table and Laurentin jumped and looked at me a little more sheepishly before adding, “My lady.”

I smiled warmly at Laurentin. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“But the Lord Herald said--” started Cillian, but I stopped him with a wave.

“The Herald isn’t here, is he?”

“My lady, it is not proper,” argued Cillian, sitting taller and looking more resolute. I narrowed my eyes at him wondering what Cullen or Maxwell must have said to him. Even with the half-hearted glare, he seemed unperturbed and unmoved. I guess I should have seen it coming. Even though everything worked out in the end, I caused a lot more potential trouble because of my willfulness. It would only have been a matter of time before Cillian grew more brave or before the Herald or the Commander gave him a pep-talk about “out-stubborning” me. Still, I already knew and came to trust him and very much preferred him over some more recent additions to my guard, I thought while sparing a look over my shoulder at the surly guard behind me.

I turned back to them both as Laurentin thought about his next move, absentmindedly holding his cheek in his hand and rubbing his finger across his cheekbone. “So who did the Commander pick to join you in guarding me, do you know?”

Laurentin snorted and moved his piece. Cillian sent him a look, but then refocused on the game. He suddenly looked surprised. Either he hadn’t expected the move or he missed something that Laurentin had set up. Cillian’s opponent was the one who answered my question instead. “Some veteran out of Montfort named Tomme Valier.”

“Montfort? He isn’t fighting in the Orlesian war?”

Laurentin shrugged but kept his eyes on Cillian as he moved his arm across the board. “He supposedly fought during the war with Ferelden, but has since been hired as a mercenary. Apparently some mages from the former circle at Markham hired him to escort them to the Conclave because they didn’t trust the Chantry or the templars. Valier was in the valley when the Temple went up and the mages he was escorting fled to Redcliffe. He stayed behind to secure the Valley. The Commander offered him a job after that.”

“You don’t seem overly fond of him,” I stated, noting his bitter tone.

Cillian spoke up this time however, having already moved his piece. “Because of his experience, the Commander appointed him to training and overseeing the recruits. He is a very… severe man.”

Laurentin snorted again. “The man is a taskmaster with little patience for error.”

“Still,” broke in Cillian, sending Laurentin a look again, “Master Valier is a skilled warrior and experienced in providing protection.”

I nodded slowly, thinking to myself as they continued their game. It was good that Cullen was allowing Cillian to remain on my detail, but I was beginning to worry about this veteran. I didn’t doubt that he would be more than capable of protecting me, but would he be so severe as to try to keep me controlled much like my current lurking female companion? I also began to worry over whether or not Cullen had intended to eventually replace the much more green Cillian altogether. I soured at the idea.

Laurentin’s teasing pulled me out of my thoughts. He had moved his piece and sat back, folding his arms and gloating at Cillian. I looked over the board and noticed that Laurentin seemed to have cornered Cillian into leaving his king open. He was in check. Cillian kept a straight face, but I noticed right before he let a grin slip across his face that Laurentin had walked right into a trap. By placing Cillian in Check, he left his own king open and ignored the minor piece just out of reach of his king, but as Cillian maneuvered his queen into place, cutting off any escape due to his knight, Laurentin finally noticed and gasped. “Andraste’s _tits_! How did I miss that?” I felt a shifting under the table again and this time Cillian kicked Laurentin so hard that the table moved and the pieces rattled across the board. “ _Fuck_! Sorry!” cried Laurentin over apparently blaspheming in my presence. Then he looked horrified while Cillian sighed at his continual obscenities. 

Both soldiers looked at me for my reaction, but I kept my mouth hidden behind my hand, but my slightly bouncing shoulders seemed to put both at ease that they would not get into trouble for the sudden blasphemy. I twisted my lips and jaw into a straight face and lowered my hand. “It’s quite alright, Lauren,” I said, cutting down his name and trying out a nickname. “I said the same thing to the Herald in Val Royeaux.”

Laurentin’s eyes widened but he seemed to enjoy the irony of the “Prophet of Andraste” blaspheming to the “Herald of Andraste” as a wide grin slid across his face. Cillian looked shocked. “When?”

“When Maxwell and I fought the first night after you went to bed,” I clarified.

“I had no idea that you and the Herald had an argument…” he started before blushing again and looking away. “Not that it is any of my concern.”

I had to laugh at his quick shifts into the shy and reserved Cillian. It was endearing. Still, I didn’t want to dwell on my argument with Maxwell that night as last night’s nightmare had forced me to face my anxieties over becoming friends with him - which was the cause of the whole fight - so I changed the subject. “So chess is basically a mockup of a battle between Tevinter and Orlais?” I asked, noting how it wasn’t just black versus white. The black pieces seemed to be fashioned after Tevinter symbols like towers and dragons while the white were fashioned after Orlesian symbols like lions and sculptural busts.

“Traditional sets tend to use these pieces, but other variants will use different nations,” explained Laurentin.

Cillian elaborated. “Most basic sets have the same wooden pieces on both sides though. They’re just painted white and black. This set belonged to a mage who died in the Conclave and the Ambassador allows us to use it to pass the time when we’re not on duty or training. The Commander doesn’t mind us passing the time with the game as it requires sound strategy and predicting the moves of one’s opponent.” He looked up with a hopeful glint in his eye. “Do you play, my lady?”

“I’m… familiar with the game,” I said slowly before a thought occurred to me and I added, “I think?” I had no idea if their chess was anything like the chess played back home - not that it mattered because I hardly ever played it anyway. My father tried to get me to play with him once when I was younger, but I didn’t have the patience to think ahead beyond my next move, so he gave up on teaching me.

“Would you like me to show you?”

“I think I’d like that,” I said, sliding over to sit across from Cillian when Laurentin vacated the seat and held it out for me before excusing himself. There was very little to occupy the empty intervals within my day other than practicing reading with Varric’s _Tale of the Champion_ or _The Botanical Compendium_. Now that I was much older and hopefully more patient, perhaps I could learn to enjoy the game more than I once did. I sat and waited as Cillian reset the board.

“The object of the game is to corner your opponent’s king into a checkmate. You can do that by putting your other pieces in a position to capture the opponent’s king which is a check - and the king must either move to avoid capture, have the offending piece captured, or interpose one of its own pieces in a sacrifice to save the king - but a check _mate_ is when you have positioned your pieces so that the opponent’s king cannot avoid capture and must surrender the game.” I nodded in understanding, and as he pointed out each piece and its movement capabilities, it became clear that their chess was very much like the chess my father had tried to teach me when I was young.

Cillian also took the time to explain certain combination moves and tricks that were often used by most players and even how to counter them or use them to your advantage. He spun the board, moving pieces around to set up different scenarios and how to plan my own attack several moves in advance while also spotting the moves of others and predicting their plans. Suddenly I was beginning to see why first Lysette had employed Cillian in my training and why later Cullen recruited him to be my guard. He had a mind for strategy and observation. That night in the tavern he had also become aware of the danger around the same time as I had. If I didn’t have Lysette’s training, however, I would have been completely unaware of the attack coming, yet I still would have been lucky for having Cillian with me.

Cillian reset the board again and spun it so that the Orlesian pieces faced me. “White proceeds first,” he instructed.

As we played he would remind me of the moves I had available to me and even explained how each one could open into a series of turns that I could use to my advantage. When I made a choice, he then explained his own possible defenses to me, how they were in preparation for his own combinations or in reaction to the choices I had made. When I made a mistake - or worse a blunder - he took the time to explain and show me how I’d made an important oversight and explained the consequences as his pieces overtook mine. But then he’d walk back the moves and invite me to try again. He was actually taking the time to teach me, to allow me to learn from my mistakes and try out different tactics. He unfortunately knew them all, but he was patient and instructive. 

However, he still made moves I _knew_ he was aware were bad for him, but he allowed me small victories as well and then praised me for them. He was a very good teacher and I was beginning to really enjoy the game. Then I made a terrible blunder and he chuckled and explained how he’d put me in check. We talked over my options grimly and when I made my choice, he informed me that no matter the choice I had made, his next turn resulted in a checkmate. He had set my king on the run and positioned both of his towers (or rooks) to corner my king and then moved in his altar (or bishop) to completely trap me.

“Another match?” he asked, already resetting the pieces. “This time I’ll only intervene if it's a good moment to teach you something new.”

I nodded, hungry for a victory. Not necessarily to beat him in a match, he was clearly too good for any hope of that, but only a small victory. Perhaps a move that surprised even him would be enough, but I suddenly felt the urge to win his approval after he’d spent so much time patiently teaching me. His interest in the last match was just in letting me learn, not in winning the game. Sure it ended up that way, but he took the time to explain every move and the logic behind them. Not even my father would do that. If he wanted to just play and win, he wouldn’t have reset my mistakes so many times or explained his own strategy to me. He wanted me to get better, so I wanted to show him that I could.

He reset the board again and I began, moving my king’s pawn forward two spaces. He mirrored my move with his pawn. Then I moved one of my altars out to the center of the board. My eyes scanned ahead for my next moves, hoping to use my altar and my queen to corner him. I also figured pulling out one of the back row pieces early would put him on the defense, but as I looked up my heart sank when I noticed his grin. “A classic opening,” he said. “One, if successful, would win the game in four moves, but,” he said as he moved his dragon (knight) out to threaten my pawn and block my advance before continuing. “It is easily countered.”

I admittedly grew frustrated and intimidated. I was running on instinct while he seemed to have the combinations and counters memorized. For every move I made, he seemed to know how it would turn into three more and every possible defense in reaction. We played for a few minutes more, but it went quickly. He had somehow turned my advantage into a scrambling defense and in five more turns he had me in checkmate.

“One more,” I said, already moving to line up my pieces again.

Cillian chuckled and responded by replacing his own pieces. “As you wish, my lady.” Once we reset our pieces he waved his hand out across the board, indicating that I should begin. I grabbed my pawn in front of my king and moved it out again two spaces. He did the same before tucking his clasped hands beneath his chin. I grabbed my right-side lion (knight) and moved it out above my altar’s pawn. He mirrored me again, but with _his_ right-side dragon. That was exactly what I was hoping for. I wanted to do two things in order to see his reaction. I wanted to start aggressively and I wanted to also try out a move he taught me in the first game.

I moved my right altar across the board to threaten his dragon.

This time, I focused on his face as I made my move. Cillian dropped his hands and leaned forward. “That’s bold...,” he said lowly. At first I was worried that I made a major blunder and had missed something, but his eyes scanned the board before lifting to my face, searching, trying to discern my thoughts. I realized I had achieved my small victory. I surprised him. Now I wanted more.

He reacted quickly in returning the threat to my altar by moving his pawn into position to capture it. I had already decided on sacrificing my altar, but I did so after taking his dragon instead. On his next turn, he moved in his queen’s pawn to capture my altar.

I also decided on moving out my lion and my altar early because I wanted to test out a move he had explained earlier as the “Tower Fortification.” Now that the pieces in between my king and my tower were out of the way, I could swap them to put my king in a better defense and move out my tower into a better position to enter the field. I think my father had called it “Castling.”

He sat back with a grin when I made the move. “Nice strategy,” he complimented before leaning forward and moved out his altar’s pawn to join his king’s. I took the opportunity to take his king’s pawn with my lion I had positioned in my second turn. He responded by moving out his dragon to threaten my king’s pawn which I quickly moved out of the way by taking his altar’s pawn.

After that we danced around each other, moving pawns and altars around the board, sweeping up pieces that were left open and shoring up defenses around others. Finally he moved his queen out into the field towards my pawns that were defending my king, and I tried to tempt him into a foolish attack by threatening his queen with a pawn. If he had taken the bait and took my pawn, I would have taken his queen with the others. Instead he moved his queen out of harm’s way from my pawns and kept her dangerously close to my king. I was forced to instead shore up the defense by threatening to take his queen with my tower if he made a move against my pawns.

Again we danced around each other, threatening pieces and placing other pieces to defend. We got to a point where we grew more bold and took both of each others’ knights and one of each other’s altars before we carefully maneuvered around the board again. Eventually Cillian had decided to break the careful dance of threats and retreats by capturing my tower with his. He set off a chain reaction where I then took his offending tower with my queen, he took my queen with his, and I took his queen with my remaining tower.

We weakened each other greatly in a span of four moves. We resumed our careful dance of testing each other, taking unguarded pawns when the opportunity presented itself. We both only had a few pawns, a tower, and an altar left with which to entrap the enemy or guard our king.

After several minutes of maneuvering, I captured his last pawn - and his last hope of promotion - leaving only his king, tower, and altar left. I knew he could still win with those three if I wasn’t careful so I tried to focus on getting a pawn to the other side of the field in order to promote it. He made several moves to either block my advances or put my king in check, forcing me to respond. I finally decided to take the offensive and pressure his king in order to force him into the defensive until I could find an opening to promote my nearest pawn. I was getting excited, focusing all my efforts on getting that pawn to the other side and making sure Cillian could also see my excitement.

It worked and I promoted my pawn to bring back out my second altar which Cillian immediately took with his own altar on his next turn. He smirked at me as he sat back, pointing out my mistake in getting too excited to notice how his altar had been positioned the whole time to take my piece as soon as I made it. It was exactly the move I was hoping for, however, and his smirk faltered when I grinned broadly in return. His eyes returned to the board and noticed too late that I was putting on an act for him, hoping he’d become complacent over my naïve display of excitement and fail to realize that when I ‘threatened’ his king with my tower, I had also positioned it to to take his last altar as soon as he stepped into my trap. All that remained of his pieces were his king and his final tower.

I decided I needed to still try to promote one of my pawns in order to win. I also noticed he was beginning to seem less sure of himself, making defensive moves rather than planning out ahead. I hoped to use that to my advantage, so I harried his king with my tower for a little while before suddenly leaving my tower within reach of his king and moving my altar instead. He tsked when he took my tower from play, but I immediately retaliated by taking his last tower. All he had left was his king and I had my altar and two pawns - one of which was on the opposite side of the invisible diagonal line that his king could not cross thanks to my altar.

He sighed as he moved his king. “This is like a slow march towards death…” he grumbled as I took each of my turns to advance my pawn to his side of the field. He was being a good sport in spite of his suddenly sour mood. We both saw the end coming, both realized that I had actually beat him, but he was letting the game play out to its conclusion.

I promoted my pawn to a queen and cornered his king between my queen and my altar. I threw my hands up in celebration as I called out, “Checkmate!”

Cillian chuckled and shook his head at my antics. “Congratulations, my lady. Though I somehow doubt you were honest about your lack of knowledge of the game,” he added with a smirk.

“Honestly, I haven’t played since I was a child, and even then…” I stopped myself abruptly. I had just nearly told him about my games with my father - my real father - the one who didn’t exist in Thedas at all.

He didn’t get the opportunity to take any meaning from my hesitation because we were quickly interrupted by a slow clapping from behind me. We both turned to notice that Cullen had taken up my guard’s post by the door and had most likely been watching the end of our game.

Cillian stood from his chair right away and pounded his fist over his chest the same way he had when I approached. “Commander!” he greeted.

He smirked at Cillian and bowed his head to him to signal that he should be at ease, then he turned back to me. “Well played, Lady Darrow,” he complimented. “You played a superior psychological game, though I must advise you to practice your strategy more before taking on more skilled opponents,” he said, smiling with a nearly imperceptible hint of pride. I would have most likely missed it if I didn’t already know what I did about his past exploits in the game and his self-assured view of his own skill.

I saw it as a challenge. I knew he would most likely wallop me, but I felt drunk off my own victory - and quite possibly a little drunk off Flissa's mead. “Is that a challenge, Commander?”

His smile widened first at only one corner of his mouth before the other hitched up to match. “If you wish, but I will have to postpone our match for another time; I was actually hoping to speak with you.”

“Of course, Commander. What is it?”

He looked around for a moment and I wondered briefly if he’d wanted privacy, but when a villager barked out a raucous laugh, I noticed him wince. I was suddenly very aware of how loud the tavern was and how pale the Commander looked. “Perhaps not here,” he said, motioning for the door and inviting me to proceed with him.

I walked out and noticed my female guard over by the other. She must have moved there when Cullen came in. She made a move to follow me, but she suddenly stopped and looked sullen again. I turned just in time to notice Cullen motioning to her to stay.

As I walked outside, my stomach twisted in anticipation over what he had to say to me. Seeing my guards off in the corner and my being completely absorbed in a game with Cillian, I didn’t even notice Cullen enter the tavern. Lysette would have scolded me for that if she had been there. I was suddenly worried that Cullen intended to do the same. Sure he assigned me guards, but based on how adamant they seemed to be about controlling me, could Cullen be upset at how I disregarded my guard’s advice?

I walked over towards the palisade where we could speak without being in the way of anyone else and also far enough from the tavern for privacy. If he did intend to scold me then I didn’t need my guards or any of the other villagers to hear it.

I watched him warily as he approached. He walked over to me in his usual grace and composure, but something in his face told me that he was a little bit uncomfortable. The gnawing returned to my stomach as I thought through the possibilities. Could it just be his headaches? Was he uncomfortable about having to confront me over disregarding my guards’ wishes? Or - and this was a much worse possibility that ate away at me most - was he still uncomfortable with _me_?

When he joined me he looked around before sighing. “Sophia…” he started, opting for an informal use of my name. “I wanted to… apologize for the way I spoke of you yesterday.”

I gaped at him. Those were not the words I was expecting to come from him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It seems that yet again I managed to speak without thought and I hurt you in the process. I did not even think about how your given title would make you feel. Though I admit I should have. I understand too well what it feels like to be trapped by a title you do not want and how it feels to have people disregard your desire to be seen as more than that.” He spoke slowly and haltingly. He seemed so unsure of himself which was a surprising contrast to the way he always carried himself. Suddenly I realized he was talking about himself and being called Knight-Captain. He was opening up about his feelings about his past - leaving himself vulnerable in his eyes.

“You mean your former title?” I asked, wanting to clarify. 

He nodded. “I’ve tried so hard to separate myself from what the Order has become, from what _I_ became under Knight-Commander Stannard, but it seems that every time I feel I’ve made progress someone will always be there to remind me. I already knew that you didn’t want to be referred to by any other titles and I should have known better than to do that in the privacy of the council. It was… hypocritical of me.”

I was still in a state of shock over him coming to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have been surprised because he’d done it once before when he thought he hurt my feelings by laughing over Beatris teasing me, but that was well before I came out about my visions. He became extremely cautious around me after that. In spite of that a part of me still struggled to trust him after he seemed so genuine and sweet and then abruptly fled from me in the middle of Haven a few weeks back.

I took a breath to focus. Now was not the time to get lost in my thoughts. I also had to remind myself that I promised to be patient with his fear of me. He just apologized for being a hypocrite, and I didn’t want to make myself one for trying to be patient with Sera and not him. “Th-thank you, Cullen,” I started haltingly. I took another breath. “That… that actually means a lot." I quickly shook my head to banish the bitter voice in the back of my head. "I apologize, I just wasn’t expecting this. To be honest, I actually thought you were going to scold me,” I said trying to laugh at myself.

Cullen looked confused at first, but the left corner of his lips tucked in with a half-smirk. “What have you done that would require admonishment?” he asked, sounding amused.

I gaped at his response and then laughed. “I think your guards may be a little upset with me,” I explained vaguely. 

He tilted his head slightly to the side, and his eyes grew concerned. “Why would they be upset?”

I sighed, trying to figure out how best to express my feelings about their presence. “I appreciate that they’re here for me, but I had also hoped that their presence wouldn’t change my routine too much. My current guard seems to be quite… adamant about my schedule and where I go. Again, I understand why I must be careful, but I just thought that the presence of the guards would be enough while in Haven, and…” I sighed and stopped. I realized I was rambling, but I couldn’t find the right words to tell him that I wanted the protection, but not the _limitation_. “I just need to be able to go where I need to or speak with who I want to without being told where to sit or how to walk or when to leave,” I said quickly and in one breath. I had tried to be tactful and respectful - to show him that I understood why I needed a guard and that I appreciated it - but more than that I needed him to know that this was suffocating and isolating. I sighed again and continued much slower, “I just already feel like I’m being isolated and it’s only been one day.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose in understanding, his lips rounding out into a silent ‘Oh.’ Then he grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck with his sword arm. “I’m afraid that is also my fault and also unintended.” He sighed and lowered his arm before twisting his shoulders to look back at the tavern. Both of my guards stood at the door, keeping a respectful distance from me and the Commander, but when he looked back the female guard seemed to sense that she was the topic of our conversation and she stood taller, but shifted on her feet uneasily. He turned back to me with a sheepish smile, his usually pale face looking a little ruddy. “I may have... been a bit overzealous when I impressed upon them the utmost importance of your safety and warned them all that any error could have disastrous consequences for not only the Inquisition…” As he spoke his gaze lowered to the ground and his chin tilted down when he moved to rub the back of his neck again and tried to avoid my gaze. His last words came out as a low mumble. “But for all of Thedas as well.”

“You did?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. To be honest, I was surprised. I knew it was his job to ensure the safety of the members of the Inquisition and now with my position - not to mention my visions - I knew that I was important. But still, this information was difficult to reconcile with his fear and discomfort around me. Had I misjudged all that? Misjudged him?

He looked back up and cleared his throat, his face wearing his Commander’s mask again. “I will speak to them again. Your duties are too critical to be stymied by an overbearing escort. You should be allowed to move freely throughout Haven without their interference.” We looked back over at my escort, who seemed to be looking more uncomfortable now. He turned back to me, his gaze earnest. “Please do not judge them for it. They were following my orders, and I sincerely apologize that you felt caged in.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice still the same whisper as before.

“I will speak to them later, but for now, you are due for training and I need to introduce you to your replacement during Ser Lysette’s absence,” he said, waving his arm towards the gates with a small bow.


	20. Letters and Bloody Noses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia has a busy week in which she continues her training without Lysette at first, but when she returns, it also marks a new step to their training. Sophia manages to corner Sera into a conversation and she receives a letter from Maxwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit over 100 kudos this week! I love all of you who have bookmarked, commented, and left kudos. It's been keeping me going!

I continued training with Knight-Captain Rylen for the next couple of days in Lysette’s absence. Unfortunately for me, Lysette left him with a plan. Since my journey to Val Royeaux - and subsequent recovery - interrupted our training, she wanted to begin again from the physical training. Which meant running. Lots of running. My afternoons were filled with running laps around the training yard, running the route to the valley, and eventually running uphill through the thick snow that accumulated near the copse north of the village.

Before I left for Val Royeaux, I felt that I had been building up some endurance and was beginning to enjoy the run. Now I couldn’t quite recall why I ever thought I enjoyed it. I was tired and exhausted and was beginning to believe that my memories of the running getting easier had to have been fabricated. It quickly became my least favorite part of my day.

My evenings with Josephine were becoming my favorite. She ordered us dinner, which was far better than the meals served at the tavern, and we’d eat together in her office before my lessons would begin. She was pleased with the reading I had done on my own, so the lessons focused more on writing and the general conventions that surrounded written expression. We practiced by her dictating some of her correspondence to me and having me write down her words exactly. When I was done she’d look over the missive and show me how I should have written it instead and then have me rewrite them with her corrections.

Outside of the lessons, however, we also spent a lot of time just talking about the Inquisition and Thedas in general. It was nice to know her views on the state of the world on a more personal level. As our resident diplomat, she would always provide her measured opinion in meetings, but alone I got the chance to really see into her mind. I was surprised to find that she was quite moderate in terms of the Mage-Templar war and even in the Chantry itself. She was a devout Andtrastian, no doubt about that, but she also saw the purpose of the Chantry as just as much political as spiritual:

“When you have a Chantry that spans across borders and cultures, you need a controlling body to codify the customs and rituals or you wouldn’t have one faith, but a multitude of which that will end up fighting over whose version of the truth is more accurate,” she explained when we got into a friendly argument over the power of the Chantry.

“But what’s to stop them from ultimately controlling every country that believes in them? Shouldn’t there be a division between religious law and secular law?”

Josephine shook her head good-naturedly. “Our world is constructed of a careful web of religious and sovereign power. Kings, Emperors, Dukes and Teryrns will do well to maintain peace with the Chantry by ruling over their people with fairness and charity while the Chantry is then bolstered by cooperation within each nation.”

“Ideally, yes. But what happens when the Chantry’s aims to maintain a political friendship with a king leads them to turning a blind eye against his tyranny?”

“That is why even the Divine does not wield absolute power but she leads the Grand Clerics who themselves represent various regions and nations.”

“Even the Chantry is not immune to the Game though. You’re telling me there are enough checks in place to stave off corruption?”

“Well, not exactly. If enough people were to turn a blind eye or actively participate in the corruption, then I suppose it could happen,” she said uneasily. “But that would result in a complete failure of the Chantry to act out its most sacred tenets of faith. It would mean the end of the Chantry.”

“Or the rise of a new world power…”

“No sovereign would allow the Chantry to subjugate their people. No, the Chantry would fail before that happens.”

“Why not? All they have to do is declare the sovereign a heretic and watch as all their power drains away.”

“You’re describing a very frightening world, Sophia… one that could only come to pass if everything _wrong_ were to happen.”

I leaned back and shrugged, thinking back to my own world history and how so many terrible events of our past must have been viewed as utterly impossible until we were right in the middle of it. “You’d be surprised how easily it can happen. Just look at your—“ I stopped and corrected myself, “Our own history. The Chant tells us of when the priests of the old religion acted without the Archon’s knowledge or approval in search for greater glory and power for themselves and their gods, they created the blight.”

“But that’s not comparable,” objected Josephine, sounding scandalized.

I decided that I needed to concede and back off. I had faith that Josephine wouldn’t declare me a heretic and turn me over to the Chantry, but I didn’t want to keep pushing her. “I know. I just think it’s important to learn the lessons of history and never assume we can’t fall into those traps again.”

Josephine nodded solemnly and then smirked. “But one must also look ahead. Too much time spent looking behind and you will miss the new pitfalls before you.”

I smirked back at her over my goblet of wine. “I concede to your point.”

She cut a slice of cheese away from her wedge and delicately brought it to her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully with a hand in front of her lips before speaking again. “You do make excellent points, Sophia, and I am glad to have you with us. I do not think my mind is capable of making such thoughtful, yet dark, twists and turns and it is good to have someone with us who can.”

“That’s what Leliana is here for though,” I joked. “She’s dark and twisty enough for the both of us.”

Josephine let out a tinkling little laugh. “She certainly can be at times, but her heart is in the right place.”

“Careful. I don’t think she’d take kindly to you accusing her of having a heart.” I tried to keep my tone light and humorous, but I was beginning to feel a little bitter at the memory of her trying to use me as a tool.

Josephine pinched one corner of her mouth inwards in a half-hidden grimace and tilted her head. It was a show of equal parts sympathy and exasperation. “She can be harsh, but she means well. Her aims are only ever to serve the people as best as she knows how.”

I sighed and nodded, stabbing my fork into the roasted vegetables on my plate. “She still doesn’t trust me,” I said, half to myself.

Josephine didn’t say anything right away so I chanced a glance at her. She sat up straight and gently put her fork down next to her plate. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her lips. It was a stalling tactic. She put down her napkin and looked at me before exhaling a deep sigh. “The Spymaster is… _slow_ to trust. The very nature of her position requires a certain degree of incredulity and,” she stopped, hesitating. “We all have much in our pasts that give us pause. You must not take it upon yourself, Sophia. It is not _you_ she mistrusts, but the circumstances that surround your… situation.”

I put down my fork and sat back, no longer hungry. “I don’t think that is as comforting as you hoped it would be.”

“I know. But you should know that she _does_ trust you as much as she is capable of for the time being.”

“Can I do anything to change it?” I asked, hoping that a friend’s perspective might help me learn how to win over the Spymaster, but her grim expression quickly sank my hopes.

“You should not try to force it, Sophia. Forcing yourself on someone who is wary of you may not always bear the sweet fruit that you hope for,” she warned. I nodded and changed the subject, moving into our evening’s lessons.

I’d like to say that Josephine’s warning stuck with me, but only days later, I found myself stalking Sera again. Trying to find her in a situation where I could force a conversation. I was certain that if I could just have the chance to _talk_ to her, she’d be less frightened of me. ‘ _Get in good before you’re too big to like_ ’ as she would say.

I had finally cornered her in the tavern one afternoon before training. When I approached her, she noticed quickly and stood up. Her eyes immediately went to the exit, but I’m somewhat ashamed to say that I had strategically placed one of my guards by the door, somewhat inconspicuous, but not enough that she hadn’t noticed.

She sighed and sat back. “Right. Wut you want?” she asked, not hostile, but resigned.

I sat down across from her and tried to put on a reassuring smile. “I was just hoping to talk to you.”

She narrowed her eyes and turned her face slightly to give me a side-eye instead of looking at me straight on. “Why…?” she asked, sounding suspicious. 

“The way we met was a bit…”

“Weird?”

“I was thinking traumatic,” I said with a grimace remembering the crushed frozen pieces of _man_ that had me so distracted I didn’t even notice I was bleeding. For someone who was squeamish about magic in general, it must have been an uncomfortable situation for her. “And the trip home, we never took the time to become properly acquainted,” I added.

“I already know about you, don’t I?” she countered defiantly.

“‘About me’?” I asked, hoping she’d clarify.

“Look, I understand that you and Mr. Lordybloomers are super important, yeah? You two are way up here,” she said gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “Meanwhile the rest of us are way down here. It’s not all bad, innit? I mean, someone has to be up there closin’ the rifts and puttin’ shite back the way it goes, and - Andraste help me, I wanna help - but that don’t mean I really want my fortune told, right?”

I sat back, somewhat relieved, seeing a chance to put her at ease. “You’re worried I’ll see into your future?”

“I don’t care what you see as long as you don’t _tell_ me.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I reassured. “I’ve really only seen the Herald in my visions. I mean I still see the rest of you as well, but they seem to be centered around him, so aside from your future with the Inquisition, I doubt I’ll see much of your personal future.” It was a total lie, but one I’ve been using on the others to some level of success so far. 

Except for that one time with Leliana. But I was still fairly certain that she would never tell anyone else about it. Since then I’d decided it would be much safer for me to not divulge any more additional details than what was truly necessary, and even then I seemed to be dangerously toeing the line with the details I’ve revealed to Maxwell about meeting his companions. Hopefully he’ll continue to believe my intuition excuse, but I needed to be more creative about how I divulged information moving forward.

“Look, I can see how it can be useful, yeah? I jus don’t wanna hear about my own part in the future.”

“I can respect that and can refrain from mentioning certain things to you,” I said nodding.

A thought seemed to come to her and she turned to face me fully. “I mean, if I’m about to go tits up, then yeah - lemme know! But anything other than that, I dun wanna hear it.”

I chuckled and nodded again. “I can do that.” I’d also have to consider her presence as well before launching into one of my ‘visions.’ If the others who expected magic were freaked out by them, I could only guess what her reaction would be. “So you’ve heard ‘about’ me, but will you give me the chance to let you know the real me?” I asked. I had to try to keep from wincing outwardly at my choice of words. I knew that any ‘me’ she ever got to know would only be a fraction of the real me - no one could ever know the real me, no one would understand. But nevertheless, there was a certain amount of truth behind my words. She’d learned about me and the Herald during the height of all the sensational rumors spreading through Val Royeaux. I highly doubted many of them were close to the truth.

She glared at me again, getting that suspicious glint in her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to get to know you, too.”

She snorted. “Like you don’t already know?”

“I sometimes get visions of the Herald’s future. That doesn’t mean I’m omniscient.”

“Okay, but… why?” she repeated. “You’re… you.”

I scrunched up my brow in confusion, not quite following. “I’m ‘me’?” I repeated, hoping for elaboration.

“Look I get it, yeah? Life is full of big people and little people. Big people are sometimes important and do _big_ things. Then there’s us little people,” she said pointing at herself. “We just follow along and sometimes it works out and _sometimes_ we get shat on instead. You’re big. Almost too big, right? There you are, facing off with the Chantry and Templar big-wigs. It’s cool, yeah? Standin’ up to the tits at the top waving their cods around too big an’ important to notice what's happenin’ to the rest of us, but even you are too high up to really see what’s going on all the way down here.”

As Sera’s words sunk in, I was suddenly struck by what she was saying. She was warning me about the very things I had tried to warn Leliana about weeks ago. It actually hurt that Sera would jump to the conclusion that I hadn’t ever thought about the people involved in it all. The advisers and I had just argued about them trying to pull me from the infirmary and ultimately removing me from the public eye. However, I did end up compromising with a very public escort. The optics of it all certainly wasn’t in my favor.

I had decided that instead of arguing with her, I’d invite her to help me instead. I leaned forward, hoping my expression showed genuine earnestness. “Then help me,” I said.

“Sorry, wut?”

“Help me to not forget about the little people when I get caught up in trying to see the bigger picture.”

She leaned back and chuckled nervously. “Psh, wut? How would _I_ do that?”

I gave her a wry grin. “I don’t know. Just remind me when you feel like I’m becoming an oversized, self-important tit.”

She devolved into a slightly more relaxed, high-pitched giggle for a few moments. “Careful with that language, Touched-Lady-Prophet. The lady ambassador just might swoon to hear you speak like that.”

“Oh, there is definitely nothing proper about my tongue,” I warned. When she broke out into a nervous giggle again, I’d suddenly realized what I’d actually just said to her and laughed too.

She let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair again casually and grinned. “Yeah, I can do that." She turned her head to the side again to stare at me from her left eye. "You might jus’ be alright after all.”

* * *

When I showed up for my writing lessons with Josephine later that night I had decided to avoid mentioning my rather blatant disregard for her advice. It turned out that I didn’t even need to worry about it as our lessons took on a more practiced approach seeing as Josephine had a letter waiting for me from Maxwell. It was a thick roll of parchment, and as I unfurled it, I discovered that it was three sheets. This time, when I took the letter in hand, I could be fairly confident that I would be able to read it. 

> My Lady Prophet,

I stopped for a moment and rolled my eyes at the greeting. It wasn’t a refusal to understand my perspective. He already knew it. It was his own small effort in getting in the last word in our own little game of teasing each other with our titles. Last we saw each other I had addressed him as Lord Herald. This was his retort. I refocused on the large sections of runes beneath the greeting and continued, taking my time as I translated them in my head.

> As you warned, when we arrived at the Coast, our scouts’ efforts to search for the Wardens were stymied by clashes with the group further up the coast. Following your advice, we picked up The Iron Bull and his Chargers before heading out to search for the missing soldiers. You were right. He openly admitted to his “other occupation” when we first made introductions. 
> 
> The Iron Bull has joined with our group, but has sent his Chargers back to Haven to negotiate the contract with Josephine. I have sent a missive to her directly with both our recommendations that we proceed with the contract.
> 
> As for the soldiers… 

I stopped reading for a moment and looked up. Josephine had busied herself with her own correspondence and was no longer paying any attention to me. She didn’t notice how I visibly tensed and shifted in my chair as I leaned over the letter. This was an important moment. I had given Maxwell the details he’d needed to know, but ultimately left the decision on how to deal with it up to him. This moment would help me understand the kind of man, the kind of Inquisitor he would become.

> How can I relate to you in words what I discovered up on that hill? I know telling you this may hurt you, but you had to have already seen it. I mean, you knew that they would already be dead by the time we arrived...
> 
> But Sofie… they were brutalized. It was horrible walking into that cabin where they were just tossed unceremoniously, left to rot. I did find the letter and the details that led us to their camp as well as a hint to the dissent of some of their members, but how could I possibly be persuaded to even consider challenging their leader on their behalf after such a sight?
> 
> Truth be told, I was angry. Very angry, Sofie. At them, at myself, and admittedly a little with you. How could we have even entertained the thought of bringing this group in after they so callously murdered our own? I went down into that glade fully prepared to serve justice to them all. 
> 
> And then I saw the two “guards” at the gate. They were no more than sixteen years at best guess. How could I slaughter children? I wasn’t seeking justice for my men, it was vengeance. Vengeance on lost, misguided youth who were manipulated into the “service” of a terrible man.
> 
> So I bore the Mercy Crest and as you said, they stepped aside. No one moved to interfere or stop us. We strolled right through the heart of their camp to face a beast of a man, more feral than the two beasts he commanded. I felt no guilt or remorse when we cut him down. Killing him didn’t feel like an act of vengeance. It felt like justice. Not just for our men, but for the people in that camp. They pledged themselves to the Inquisition just as you said.

I took a deep breath and looked up from the letter again, letting my hands fall to rest in my lap. I knew Maxwell had every right to want to seek vengeance or justice for his - our - fallen soldiers. Most people would have reacted that way, especially when confronting them as a group would certainly mean an all-out battle. But in the end, he didn’t. He didn’t let his anger cloud his vision. He was willing to see enough to give him pause and reevaluate his own beliefs. I smiled to myself, feeling truly confident in my faith that he would become exactly what the Inquisition would need to make Thedas a better place. He would be exactly who Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, The Iron Bull, and all the others would need to become better people.

I picked up the letter from my lap and continued reading the last page.

> They are sending back some supplies they “salvaged” along the coast, but they are in dire need of medical supplies of their own. Their camp is poorly outfitted for dealing with any serious injury or sickness. I hope you can oversee the Chantry sisters in putting together some supplies to send back. I also ask that you send some of your best healers back with the supplies to see to some of the sick and wounded personally. There is one here in camp who is in dire need. She is one of their former leader’s wives (yes wives). She is heavy with child and very sick. They worry for both her and the baby. She is so very young.
> 
> The longer I stayed in that camp the more I am truly glad for having rid the world of such a stain, but also the more I question myself for how close I came to forcing a fight with them all, to seeking vengeance upon young men and women and children. I thank you for your continued faith in me but sometimes I wonder if it is well-placed.

I chuckled to myself, feeling even more confident in light of his own self-reflection.

> I will continue on down the rest of the coast over the coming days in search for the missing Wardens. I hope to return with news soon. 
> 
> As always, thank you for your timely guidance. You truly are a light in a dark time.
> 
> Maxwell
> 
> P.s. - I am certain you have already seen it, but Varric has taken it upon himself to call The Iron Bull “tiny” and The Iron Bull mistakenly tried to bestow his own nickname upon the First Enchanter. He now reverently refers to her only as “ma’am” much to Lady Vivienne’s delight.

At that last bit of news, I let out a full laugh and placed the letter down on Josephine’s desk in front of me. She peered over her papers with a small smile. “Good news, I hope?”

I nodded. “Some, however, he’s also requested some aid be put together and sent out to the coast immediately.”

She smirked and indicated her own letter sitting in the middle of her desk. “It appears we’ve all received our own instructions from the Herald. I have begun drafting the contract now. I take it you approve?”

I nodded with my own smile. “The Chargers aren’t just a good mercenary group. They’re a good team that fully exploits the talents of all its members. The Inquisition can actually stand to benefit from their expertise if we are open enough to learn from them.”

“Oh?” She put down the contract and placed her hands in her lap, giving her me full attention.

I mulled over how much to actually divulge. How much could I chalk up to intuition or visions? How much would seem _too much?_ “I’ve seen how they interact with each other. The sisters can learn a thing or two from their healer while our soldiers can benefit from their tactics.”

She nodded and picked up the contract once more. “Perhaps I should add a clause that invites them to share any additional skills or techniques in return for reasonable compensation?”

“I think they’d love that.”

She made a few quick notes before placing the contract down on the desk again. She picked up a blank sheet of parchment and placed it on my side of her desk. “Now, would you like to draft a reply to the Herald?”

I scooted the parchment closer to the edge of the desk and accepted her proffered quill and inkwell. I dipped the quill into the ink and tapped it gingerly on the side of the well as Josephine rose from her chair and stood behind me to offer her advice as I wrote.

My blocky handwriting was slow and I still glanced at the reference sheet every now and then to confirm the correct rune configurations.

> My Dear Lord Herald,

“Um…” started Josephine from behind my shoulder. I turned to look up at her as she straightened and looked from the letter back to me. “Are you certain you wish to start it that way?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking over my runes to make sure I hadn’t misspelled something or accidentally said something horribly wrong.

“Well, you’ve used two standard greetings at once and together it can come off as a bit… well... _familiar_ ,” she explained and reached down over my shoulder to point at my runes. Her finger however above the still drying ink of the runes that indicated the word ‘My.’ “Usually you would start with either ‘My Lord Herald’ or ‘Dear Lord Herald.’ By putting them together you are instead expressing the phrase ‘My dear’ which conveys a much more personal level of familiarity,” she said, trying to be formal with her explanation.

“Oh!” I laughed. “That was sort of the point,” I said and laughed again at her somewhat intrigued and scandalized expression. “Not like that," I corrected. "I’m just trying to be a bit cheeky and tease him. He and I both hate our titles, but we use them on each other all the time. See?” I said, pulling out the first page of my own letter from him and showed her the greeting. “He knows I hate being called My Lady as well as the title of Prophet, so he used both. He doesn’t do it to be insensitive. It's just… kind of a joke between us?”

“Oh,” she breathed, looking a little relieved. “My apologies, then. Please continue.”

I turned back to my letter and bit my lip as I considered what to say first. I looked back at my own letter and decided to just address each bit of news he shared in his own.

> I am glad to hear that your meeting with the Chargers went according to plan. Josephine has indeed set herself to working on the contracts, and we eagerly anticipate their arrival, but Maxwell, I am so sorry about what you had to witness on the hill that day. You had every right to feel angry, and to be honest, I am still quite angry with myself. Those lives could have been spared if only I had acted sooner.

“Sophie…” came Josephine’s voice behind me. I didn’t turn to look at her. I knew what I would have seen. Her brow furrowed and her pouty lips even more prominent in her signature look of concern. “That’s not true. You didn’t know before it was too late. Only the Maker knows why he reveals what he does and when. You should not take that guilt on yourself.”

I only shrugged in response. I appreciated her words of comfort, but I knew better. Those soldiers’ deaths _were_ preventable, and I could have stopped it if I hadn’t been so caught up in my own efforts to lie to everyone. How easy it could have been for me to fake a random vision - at any time - and spare those men the brutal deaths they faced. Perhaps Sera was right. In my efforts to become indispensable to the Inquisition, to become too important to ignore, I _had_ begun to lose sight and forget about the people I _could have_ saved if I wasn’t so caught up in the bigger picture of the overall story and my drive to get back into the Fade. This world was - as far as I could tell - very real, yet I have been playing it as if it were still a game.

And people died.

I glowered at the page, trying to find my previous positivity I had mustered after reading Maxwell’s letter. I picked up his letter and read over the middle again in hopes of finding it. I read over his words concerning his own faith in himself and remembered how I wanted to reply. I leaned back over the letter again.

> However, your actions that day show just what kind of man you are. You put your own emotions aside in order to help people who in many respects did not deserve it, but they desperately needed it. You acted with restraint, forgiveness, and charity - qualities that Andraste herself would have strove to embody. Do not doubt yourself, Maxwell. I don’t.
> 
> I wish you luck on your continued search and pray for your safe return to Haven.
> 
> Sophia.

I turned to look over my shoulder at Josephine to make sure I hadn’t messed anything up too terribly, but she wasn’t looking at the letter. She was looking at me with shining eyes. “Sophie, that was beautifully written. The Herald is lucky to have a friend like you.”

I smiled up at Josephine in response and read over my letter again. Suddenly another thought just occurred to me about how I could mitigate some of the damage I had done by being a little _too knowledgeable_ about our companions, and I added it in a postscript.

> P.S. I actually did not see anything about the new nicknames, but it seems our dear writer friend loves irony a little bit too much. Remember Lucky? I am also not surprised that the formidable Madame de Fer was able to intimidate even a Qunari like The Iron Bull. What did he call her though that prompted such a response? I look forward to your reply either in letter or in person. Again, be safe.

I blew gently over the letter, aiding the ink in drying before handing it to Josephine. “Well, Sophia, I do think our lessons may be just at an end. Not only was your letter free from mistakes, but it was very well drafted,” she said as she rounded her desk and placed my letter in a pile of others she intended to send out. She looked up abruptly from her work. “But by all means, that does not mean we have to stop our evening meals. I do quite enjoy our talks.”

I picked up my long forgotten goblet that still had some red wine remaining and finished it. “I would like that.”

* * *

The next morning Lysette returned from Highever, and I continued my afternoon training with her. She was pleased that I had worked on improving my stamina once again after over a week of rest. She warned that taking too long of a break can make even the fittest of soldiers feel like they were starting over and urged me to always find the time to continue my training - even if it was just going on a run. 

Her return, however, also marked a progress in her lessons and we moved into her fourth rule: deflect an oncoming attack.

“The idea isn’t to enter a fight with someone potentially stronger and most likely more skilled than you,” she explained. “If possible, you need to deflect their attack and then go back to rule number three. You run.”

"Now, unless your attacker wasn't anticipating coming after you, he will most likely wear equipment that will defend himself from physical blows. Even if he isn't wearing chainmail or armor, most gambisons that many guards wear are specifically padded to prevent heavy blows to the chest which would reduce the overall impact you can have when aiming for that area. You need to be aware of things like armor and helmets before you act. The purpose is to injure or surprise them, not to injure or tire yourself out." She showed me a variety of moves that depended on the position of my attacker and myself as well as what the attacker could be wearing, and for the first few days she and I worked on the simple movements together against straw dummies. Most consisted of quick bursts of unexpected movement driven at the right angle to the right location to stun the attacker enough to give me time to flee. "Now, if your attacker is a man, he will be acutely aware of his own weakness, specifically that of his groin. Any movement you make towards that area will be met with a quick defense. My advice is that you do not aim for his groin with the intent to follow through. You _will_ be met with a defense that will either expend energy that you will need to escape or even get you caught in a hold if he moves to grab you in order to stop you. I suggest that you merely feint for the groin to put him on the defense and then divert your attack elsewhere like perhaps an upward thrust of your palm towards his nose or a sideways kick at the knee."

It was a lot more precise than I expected it to be, so we practiced the movements a lot before adding more speed, force, and eventually a person.

Cillian was the unlucky participant. I wasn’t supposed to actually respond to his attacks with full force, but to practice the move for now. At first, we were fine. Everything was moving slow and I had the opportunity to aim my movements correctly to his size and stature. Sure, he’d grab my arms or grip me from behind, but my movements never connected with force.

That was until he lunged at me from behind, gripping my throat with one hand and his other arm slung over my chest. I knew it was coming - we'd talked about it - but I felt the cold panic blossom through my chest and my free arm that wasn’t blocked by his arm wrenched backwards with wild speed and force. My elbow connected with his nose and made a soft, wet crunching sound.

Cillian recoiled and fell back into the snow, clutching his face, red blood streaming between his fingers. “Oh my G- Maker! Cillian, I’m sorry!” I cried dropping to my knees in the snow in front of him. Lysette sighed behind me and called for a runner to fetch Aiden, the spirit healer. “Can I see?” I asked softly, my fingers gently resting on his hands.

He nodded, moved his hands, and tried to chuckle reassuringly. “If you’d done that in Val Royeaux the night might’ve ended differently,” he said with nasally humor. He was trying to reassure me, but it didn’t help. The altered sound of his voice and the small flecks of blood that sprayed from his lips like spittle when he spoke were details that were decidedly _un_ reassuring.

I felt along the bridge of his nose gingerly, noticing his wincing as I did so. The cartilage was displaced from the force of my hit. I cringed and looked at him with guilt. “I’ll need to reset your nose before Aiden heals it,” I explained, trying to sound clinical. My voice wavered though and I was pretty sure I failed to convey the appropriate amount of clinical detachment.

This time when he winced, his lip pulled up enough to reveal bloody teeth. “Like force it back into place?” I nodded. His head pulled back slightly from my grip. “Broken noses add a bit of character, yeah? Make me look more rugged?” he asked with a chuckle that sounded more nervous than confident.

Lysette grunted from behind us. “Make you look like an idiot,” she said in a huff. “Let the healer fix your nose, soldier,” she said with a strict finality.

Cillian winced again and looked at me warily. I tried to pour all my guilt and apology, reassurance and confidence into a single look. He stared at me for some time before he turned and spat out some blood into the snow and nodded. I cleared my throat and scooted forward. I didn’t have any of the tools or drugs that would make this easier, so I would have to manually readjust the cartilage as best as I could from the outside and without any pain relievers. I pinched the bridge of his nose again to feel where the cartilage had deviated. It was wedged up and would require a lot more force or coaxing to reset. I relaxed my hands on his face and looked at him again. “This will hurt a bit,” I warned apologetically.

“Aye, I figured,” he said morosely. He looked at me again for a time, searching my eyes before he finally sighed. “I trust you,” he said before he reached out and grabbed a mug that appeared next to my head. I turned to find the arm attached to the scout that Lysette had sent off and Aiden stood behind him waiting. The mug smelled sickly sweet - like Flissa’s undiluted mead. I didn’t say anything. He’d probably need it.

I sat back and let him drink it quickly and greedily. I knew it wasn’t for the taste or desire for the drink; he was usually much more reserved when in the presence of others - if he even drank at all. No, this I understood was nerves.

I decided to strike up conversation to both put him at ease and to wait for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. “You know when I was little, I was a bit of a wild child,” I said, running through the story in my head and forcing myself to remember that in this world, I grew up in Denerim. I mentally switched out some details that would be problematic like the cars and construction signs in my story.

He narrowed an eye at me and lowered the mug. “You?” he asked incredulously.

I laughed in response. “Yes, me. What would you expect for the child of a single mother, too quick for the poor woman to keep up with?” I asked with a wink. In reality it was my poor father, a teacher, who spent many afternoons looking after me while my mother worked at the bank well into the evening.

“My apologies, my Lady, but I cannot picture it,” he replied with a wide grin that showed his bloody teeth again.

“Yes, well, picture if you can a dirty little, barefooted girl with a rats nest for hair because she refused to ever allow her mother to run a comb through it; a girl who loved to torture her uptight neighbors with pranks.”

“You?” he asked, surprised. 

“No, I'm talking about the Lady Montilyet. Yes, me,” I replied with a laugh. “My mother raised me by herself. She did the best she could, but I was… difficult to control.”

I heard a snort from behind us and turned to see Lysette smirking. “That I believe.”

I rolled my eyes at her and turned back to Cillian, scooting closer again and pressing lightly on his face to see how he'd react. “Anyway, a lot of my neighbors looked down on my mother. They thought she shouldn’t have been raising a child all on her own without a husband or family, so I got back at them in my own little way. It was always small things like stealing their door signs, altering them so they’d portray funny pictures, and climbing their roof and making bird calls into their windows to make them run around the house to try and find the bird. Granted my antics probably didn’t help much. They said she should have sent me off to the Chantry,” I explained with a nostalgic smile. 

I could still picture our neighbors. We lived in a nice neighborhood of row houses. With a manicured street where the sidewalks were made from cobbles and planters filled with small shade trees dotted the side of the street. Many of the front gardens had to be strictly maintained for appearances. My father always maintained our garden, my mother never having the time. He found a sort of peace in it, in spite of the snide looks of our neighbors. Many of them looked down on us because my father was only a teacher and my mother was the breadwinner. They thought our home was backwards. I hated them for the way they sneered at my mother when she’d come home around dinnertime and the looks of pity they’d send my father’s way. I was a holy terror to them. They even tried to convince my parents to send me off to boarding school where I’d learn proper discipline. Our next door neighbors - a rich elderly couple who received the brunt of my playful wrath - even offered to pay my tuition.

I pinched the bridge of Cillian’s nose briefly to test how difficult my task would be. As I did, I tried to distract him with more of my story. “One day, I was trying to take the new sign off my neighbor’s door again when the old cone who lived there opened the door right in front of me. Terrified and giggling, I ran out into the street to get away from her, but suddenly a rider came through,” I explained, replacing the car with a horseback rider. I smirked at Cillian’s wide eyes in response to my story and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I leapt back and out of the way in time, but when my neighbor’s old, gnarled hands clapped down on my shoulders it gave me another fright and I took off again. They were doing some work on the houses on our street and as I tried to lose her among the scaffolding, my foot clipped one of the poles that had been dug deep into the ground.” I leaned my head to the side slightly to check his face. His eyes were focused on me and my story. They also looked slightly glassy. I moved one of my hands up to shade his gaze from the sun. His pupils reacted slowly.

I curled my fingers into my palms, leaving my thumbs out and rested my knuckles against his forehead, my thumbs pointing down towards his nose. Lysette seemed to pick up on the shift and moved to stand behind Cillian and held his face still. “So when I clipped the pole, my little toe caught while the rest of my foot just kept going.”

Cillian gasped and I stopped moving, tilting my head to look into his eyes, wondering if I’d hurt him. His expression hadn’t changed. He was engrossed in the story. “What happened to your toe?” he asked.

I smirked and got ready to press downwards with my thumbs. “The bone snapped clean in half,” I said while quickly and forcefully resetting his nose. He cried out and reached up to clasp his nose. I sat back on my heels and gave him a moment to recover. “The toe had twisted completely to the side and bled all over the place,” I kept explaining as I leaned forward again and moved his hands away from his face. He sighed and let me pinch and smooth my fingers across his nose. It was beginning to swell, but it felt like it was straight again. I moved my fingers to press against his cheekbones and sinuses. “Any pain?”

“Of course it still hurts,” he whined.

“I mean where I’m pressing,” I clarified good-naturedly.

He went quiet and I kept pressing around his cheekbones and eyes. I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. I tilted my head to look at him again. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were closed. I pressed a little more firmly. “Well?”

He jolted slightly and opened his eyes. They were still slow to react, but the pupils burst open suddenly before narrowing again. “No,” he breathed.

Satisfied, I sat back and nodded to Aiden who came forward.

Once Aiden was finished Cillian poked around at his own face, much of the swelling miraculously disappearing. Then his gaze settled on me again. “You must have found a mage to fix you too,” he said, nodding his head towards my feet. “You walk just fine, as if you’d never nearly lost a toe.”

I winced as I remembered my painful recovery. My god if I had a mage in my world… “That’s not entirely true,” I told him. “My mother couldn’t find a mage to help me, but there was a skilled healer. One who was able to align my toe and mend the skin with sutures. It took months for it to fully heal and even today, I can’t walk long distances without feeling a little discomfort whenever I take a step.”

“A healer saved your toe?” he asked a little breathless.

I nodded. “He inspired me to become a healer myself,” I said truthfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot is about to happen over the next several chapters which only take place over the course of a few days. I've also realized that I seem to have a penchant for cliff-hangers...


	21. A Private Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie gets a chance to make some inroads with Cullen, but then her efforts to carefully guard her secrets from persons and demons alike begin to crumble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be traveling at the end of next week and while I plan on bringing my laptop, I am unsure how stable my wifi will be. If I do not post on Saturday, I will post on Sunday afternoon when I return home.

The next morning, I skipped the infirmary to meet in council. We hadn’t met for nearly two weeks - since Maxwell’s departure - but I was too busy in the infirmary with the new influx of refugees and supplicants to the Inquisition. However, since the Herald’s missives from the Coast there were several decisions that needed to be made, one being what to do with the goods offered by the Blades of Hessarian. 

“We need the resources. Our soldiers can deliver the goods,” explained Cullen, making a case for accepting the goods. 

Josephine shook her head. “We cannot openly accept stolen goods.”

“Then what do we do with it? Let it rot?” he argued back.

“Of course we have no way of returning the stolen goods, but perhaps if we were to claim _found_ goods instead,” reasoned Josephine.

Cullen scoffed. “So it’s to be about appearances then?”

“We cannot be seen as a service to the people and offer aid with one hand while receiving their stolen goods with the other.”

“Let them keep their goods,” interjected Leliana. “Perhaps they have knowledge they can share instead?”

“Why can’t they give us both?” I interrupted. “They pledged their service to the Herald and the Inquisition. Why not accept their goods - _discreetly_ ,” I clarified for Josephine, “and then also request that they pass on important information?”

“One might see that as asking too much of them,” reasoned Leliana. “A trait that cost their former leader his life.”

I scoffed at her reasoning. “There’s a difference between accepting their help where they can offer it and forcing them to do terrible things to serve a thief’s whims.”

“The only difference between your two descriptions is perspective,” she countered. “All it takes is the right words and suddenly _we_ become the tyrants abusing their loyalty.”

“We’re not only taking though,” I said, waving my own missive I received from Maxwell. “We’ll be sending them medical supplies and healers.”

“And soldiers to help them rebuild and fortify their camp,” chimed in Cullen, holding up his own missive. He nodded to me and continued: “I agree with Lady Darrow. We will be providing enough aid in return that we should be able to ask for information _and_ goods.”

Leliana sighed. “Very well. I shall send one of my scouts to speak with their representative.”

We discussed many more affairs for some time, including what to do about the passages and tunnels beneath the temple and how to address the growing refugee crisis across Ferelden. With that second one, we argued for a bit over whether or not to help a certain plaintive lord or his refugees. Josephine - as usual - tried to remain neutral by sending a polite refusal, but Leliana and I were quick to point out that the lord wouldn’t see it as neutral - something that Leliana speculated on, but I knew for a fact. That was the point at which Leliana and I stopped agreeing. Cullen and I outnumbered her again and we decided on helping the refugees with food and supplies instead of clearing them off the lord’s land. Josephine prepared a letter stating that the Inquisition could provide aid, but the power to clear his lands rested with him and the bannorn. We knew that the other banns wouldn’t agree to driving off the refugees and the lord would be too spineless to do anything himself, so in the end, we'd basically be just helping the refugees who'd camped out on his land.

I hadn’t realized how much time passed until a scout came in with our midday meal. We were still arguing over how much time and resources we had for me to train several soldiers and scouts in basic field medicine and to set up field kits to take with them. Josephine was concerned with the sheer amount of resources that would cost while Cullen was worried about the time it would take and the added training required of his recruits. Leliana was more concerned about how the Chantry would view my training of both sisters and soldiers alike. Mother Giselle and Sister Beatris approved of my training the sisters here within Haven, but she warned that my changing their traditions and teaching those not within the Chantry could be seen as blasphemous. I was beginning to get the feeling that nothing would be decided on this until Maxwell returned.

I didn’t eat much. The longer we stayed in that room, the more we argued, and I was beginning to get a headache. I tried to take a drink of the wine that was brought in, but the bitter taste made my head pound even more. I desperately missed a cool glass of ice water. Haven didn’t drink much water since my warning about drinking unclean water after the outbreak of the flux. Everyone found it much more simple to drink mead and wine instead of constantly boiling water to ensure that it was safe to drink.

I winced and put the goblet down on the table, looking at it in disgust. I knew my frustration was misplaced, but better on an inanimate object than something or someone else.

“Perhaps we should decide on the rest with the Herald’s input,” offered Josephine. I looked up to see her looking at me sympathetically. She could tell I was reaching my wit’s end. I smiled apologetically and nodded my thanks.

“Very well,” said Leliana as she pushed up out of her leaning position over the table. She scooped up the plate of bread and the carafe of red wine. “Dear Josie, do join me for lunch,” she said as she walked out and made for Josephine’s office.

“Here,” said Cullen behind me. I turned and found him holding out a bloated skin. I must have looked at it skeptically because he gave a short good-natured laugh. “Its water,” he said, reaching out with it again. “Don’t worry, I’ve followed your instructions; it’s clean.”

I smirked at him and took the skin, uncorked it and squeezed its bloated belly as fresh water poured into my mouth. I closed my eyes and groaned greedily from the fresh feeling that washed down the cloying taste of the wine. I opened my eyes and noticed Cullen’s amused expression. I pressed the cork into the now half empty skin and returned it to him with an apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said in a soft voice, almost like a whisper. “The wine can sometimes leave much to be desired when your mind is racked by headaches.” I made a face, and he smirked as he looked down and then back up. “Yes, I know. It’s easy to spot the reason behind such a sour gaze when I myself have made it very often.”

A small voice in the back of my head told me that I wouldn’t have known about his own troubles, so I allowed myself to look concerned. “Do you experience headaches often?” His smile fell and he nodded; he looked uncertain, as if he worried that he’d just said too much. But he’d given me an in, a way for him to tell me about the issues with his withdrawal from the lyrium, and if he’d let me, I could help him. So I pressed. “Are you getting enough sleep?” He shrugged in response. “Do you struggle to sleep because of the headaches?” I asked and took a step forward, holding out my hands. He hesitated so I froze. “May I?” He sighed in resignation and nodded. I stepped toward and placed my hand over his forehead. His skin felt dry and cool. No fever. “Are you experiencing one now?”

“Thankfully, no.”

It would be difficult for me to help him unless he came to me when he was experiencing one. I’d have to settle on questioning him for now. “Do you experience nausea?” He nodded. “Fever or chills?” He nodded. “Confusion?” His eyes searched mine for a few moments before he closed them and nodded. I pulled my hands back and waited for his eyes to open again. “Promise me you’ll come see me when another one comes.” He looked wary, so I dipped my head and made sure his eyes found mine. “Promise me, Cullen. I’m a healer and you shouldn’t be dealing with this on your own.”

He sighed and stood up straighter. “I didn’t keep you to talk about my health, my Lady," he said putting back on his usual mask of detached politeness. "I actually wanted to know if you’d like to take up that game I promised a few days back.”

“Oh,” I said surprised. “But I have training this afternoon with Lysette.”

Cullen chuckled and smirked at me knowingly. “I think perhaps poor Recruit Glass could use a day off after yesterday’s excitement, don’t you?”

I widened my eyes and felt my cheeks grow hot. Of course he’d have heard about it. They _were_ his soldiers. “I’m so sorry about that.”

He was still smiling. “No permanent harm was done, and besides, it may teach him to pause before leaping to volunteer himself as often as he does,” he explained with a chuckle.

“Oh…” I said, my mind wandering off. I had always thought that Cillian was assigned to me. The fact that he had volunteered instead of being “voluntold” made me feel much worse about breaking his nose.

“Shall we to our game?” asked Cullen, waving his hand towards the door behind me.

I smirked and stepped to the side, allowing him access to the door. “Of course, Commander,” I said as he moved to exit the war room. I walked beside him for a few paces before speaking up again: “But don’t think that I didn’t notice how you changed the subject.”

His eyes darted to the side and the right side of his mouth dragged up into a lop-sided smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of getting it past you, my lady.”

We walked outside together, but instead of heading for the tavern, he held his left arm out towards the right, blocking my path while also beckoning me north. I followed him as he turned back east to the side of the chantry where I helped Adan and Beatris set up an herb garden. The snow had been cleared away and a loosely woven linen cloth had been stretched above to prevent more snowfall from falling while allowing some sunlight to still filter through. The area was warmer than the chilly cold outside of this small alcove. Beneath a barren aspen a small table had been set up with two chairs and Josephine’s Orlesian chess board.

“You’ve set up out here?” I asked breathless at the quiet beauty of the space.

“It's a world quieter than the tavern,” he explained. We both looked around to see some sisters tending to the beds. They looked up at Cullen and nodded respectfully and left. He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair on the Orlesian side, indicating that I should sit.

I took the seat and waited for him to settle across from me. “I know the tavern can be quite loud at times, but it would be good to let your soldiers see you more often,” I said as I moved a piece out.

Cullen pulled a face and responded. “My soldiers see my plenty.”

“I don’t mean in the camp,” I explained. “It would be good for them to see you in the quiet moments, off duty.”

“The tavern doesn’t exactly provide the space for a quiet moment,” he countered with his words as he countered with his dragon.

“That wasn’t the point,” I replied in exasperation.

“I know,” he replied with a smirk.

“You should let them see that you’re just a regular man,” I pressed.

“I disagree,” he rumbled with a deep voice that didn’t carry a tone of argument, but of friendly conversation. “They need to be able to look to their commander and trust that he has the answers. If they learn to doubt then they won’t respect the chain of command. If they see me as one of them, they won’t respect me. If they believe I’m flawed, they won’t trust me.”

I knew it was a gamble, but just as Leliana needed to learn to be a lot less cold, Cullen needed to quit striving to be perfect. The strongest materials would only break when enough pressure was applied. If he didn’t learn to bend, he wouldn’t make it. I moved a piece out and spoke while he looked over his choices. “Is that how Meredith--” I stopped myself and corrected, “Knight-Commander Stannard commanded respect?”

His hand faltered over his piece and his eyes shot up to mine.

“Would you have still followed her orders if she hadn’t appeared so crazed at the end? If she appeared to have a clear mind and ordered you to annul the circle, would you have done it?”

“That was different,” he began.

“Was it?”

He sighed and sat back. “There were blood mages in the city, mages were escaping the Circle, and the mages left _within_ the Circle even turned to blood magic,” he argued gently. I could tell this conversation was making him uncomfortable, but he appeared to be making an effort to not get angry. An effort that I took advantage of.

“Would they have turned to it if they didn’t feel like they were backed into a corner?” I pushed. “Would Orsino have become what he did if he weren’t trying to foolishly save the mages under his care?”

“How would you--” he started in frustration and then stopped and shook his head. “Varric’s Maker-damned _book_ ,” he spat.

Suddenly it hit me that the game I played in Dragon Age II was presented as Varric’s story as he told it to Cassandra. I’d read Varric’s book and knew there were some differences between what he wrote and what he told her. I wondered if there were more differences between the book, what he told Cassandra, and the actual truth.

“What really happened?” I asked, giving him a chance to tell his side of the story.

He sighed and moved his piece in defeat. “Aside from his unflattering descriptions of me, his account of what happened with the mages was mostly true.” He sat back again and looked straight into my eyes. “To be truthful, I really don’t know if I’d have doubted her in enough time if she hadn’t appeared to become so completely obsessed in the end.”

He sat back looking so glum and uncertain. I leaned forward and tried to reassure him. “I don’t think that’s true.” I kept my eyes on him as I moved my piece. His eyes shot up to mine again, searching. “You once told me that all you wanted was to be the man you hoped to be as a boy. What else would make a boy strive to join the Order if not to be in service to the good of others? Sure your commander led you astray for a time, but when it mattered, when you saw her injustice, you fought back.”

He leaned forward and moved his piece. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”

“I don’t think I do,” I said, looking for my next move. We’d been playing slowly, but suddenly I realized I was cornered - had been cornered - for many turns now. He should have already beaten me, but he kept a distance, just out of placing me in check. I let out a single, silent laugh and shook my head, smirking at him. I moved my piece. “You turned your sword against your commander to protect the innocent. You left the Order and joined the Inquisition when the Divine’s Hands asked you. That sounds like a man more concerned with service to the people than a man craving honor or power.”

“I was also the man who saw maleficarum and blood mages everywhere, the man who turned a blind eye towards the abuses committed by my own men, the man who--” He stopped, his voice having risen in his own self-loathing.

We sat silently for a time. Him shaking his head and rubbing his temples, me watching him closely. Seeing him like this told me volumes about his character and made me feel regret for my own misjudgment. He _was_ trying to change and be a better man.

“Is that who you are now?” He looked at me with an open mouth, looking somewhat affronted. I smiled warmly at him and continued, “I don’t mean to accuse you, but to remind you of who you told me you wanted to be. It takes courage for a man to confront himself and vow to change.”

He shook his head and moved his piece again. I realized that he’d been recycling the same three moves now. This time he moved his tower across the top of the board. Next he will move his dragon closer to my king, and in the next he’d move his altar diagonally away. Then in the next three moves, he’d reverse the three he’d just made. “You don’t know me.”

“But I’d like to,” I said, and I realized just then how true it was. I had before me the opportunity to break through his fear of magic, his fear of me, to help him with his withdrawal and make him stronger, more able to resist - and possibly even to prevent his crisis of self-doubt later in Skyhold.

“You wouldn’t like what you hear,” he warned, shaking his head.

I moved my piece, threatening to take his tower. “Try me.”

He sighed and avoided my gaze, predictably moving his tower away. Just when I’d given up hope that he’d open up, he finally spoke, surprising me: “I was in love with a mage once,” he said softly. 

My eyes shot to him, but he was looking away at a bed of elfroot. I was shocked at the revelation. It wasn’t that it was new information, it was just that I’d already learned in my time here that the Hero of Ferelden was Lady Cousland who then became Queen-consort before disappearing shortly after fending off an attack on Amaranthine as Ferelden’s Warden-Commander, leaving Alastair to rule on his own.

Cullen was now referring to a completely different origins story and I’d wondered how many of them actually happened and if they’d turned out differently due to Duncan’s absence in their lives. Then I remembered how the troubles in Redcliffe and Orzammar started from the origin stories of the others and that most likely, they had _all_ occurred, including the one that involved Cullen and the Circle.

But underneath that small discovery was the question about why Cullen thought that information would be something I wouldn't like to hear. Was it really so bad for someone to fall in love with a mage in Thedas? Or was it only terrible because he was a templar?

Cullen’s eyes reluctantly slid to mine during my silence. He looked very uncomfortable. I held my breath. Was he really going to tell me the failed origin story of the mage?

Cullen sighed morosely and slid his eyes back over to me. “Or at least I thought I was. She had just passed her Harrowing when she helped a blood mage escape. We imprisoned her and waited - at the First Enchanter’s insistence - for the other Senior Enchanters to return from Ostagar. We…” he stopped and swallowed. “ _I_ questioned her. She promised she didn’t know he was a blood mage, but none of us believed her. Knight-Commander Greagoir was a good man. A patient man. He agreed to wait for the others to return to determine her fate. I felt so betrayed by her that I refused to listen to her explanations and I was angry with my Knight-Commander for showing her forbearance. Then some of the mages returned from the front. A certain mage, Uldred, was among them. He was a spineless, bitter man, but we trusted him because he seemed to be the best among the mages at rooting out maleficarum... but it turned out he was just as good at turning them to his own purpose,” he explained, glowering darkly at the board. "They told us how the king had fallen, that the Blight was upon us and that the mages needed to be free to fight for themselves. The Knight-Commander tried to reason with them, to call for calm, but then it was as if war broke out within the Circle itself. Mages were attacking templars and other mages, using blood magic, all being led by Uldred himself.” Cullen’s gaze darkened and he squeezed his fist tightly. When he spoke again, it was full of anger. “We trusted him, and he used that trust to betray us. Many of the mages made for the First Enchanter’s office, but I knew it was a diversion. Uldred was more interested in his own power than in usurping the First Enchanter. I headed for the basement, where we kept several forbidden items such as the dark tomes that I was certain he would be after, and I was right.” He stopped and sighed, looking up at me again. “They captured me and freed the prisoners we held down there - including Solona.”

“The mage you--?”

He nodded. “I actually thought she’d joined them. I was so angry with her. I cursed her name and the day I first saw her.” Cullen paused and took another deep breath. His face suddenly changed, looking sad. “But it turned out she didn’t. When I'd cursed her there was so much pain on her face. She looked as though _I_ was the one who betrayed _her_. Eventually, they brought us both to the top of the tower and they…" he paused, closing his eyes. He swallowed deeply and continued: "They actually _sacrificed_ her for their rituals; right in front of me. They called her an enemy for being friends with templars, for trying to convince them to let me go. They left me up there with her body for days, trapped and…” He stopped, swallowing deeply again. He shook his head and moved on. “I cried out for help over and over, but no one ever came. It felt like no one was even listening.”

I reached my hand out across the board instinctively. “Cullen, I’m so sorry--” Cullen jerked his hand back, so I stopped, leaving my hand sitting there limply in the space between us, and waited for him to make the next move.

The look of self-loathing came across his face again. “I wanted to kill them all," he said angrily. "I called for the Rite of Annulment. I begged for it, but Lady Cousland, she didn’t listen. Neither did my Knight-Commander. He sent me to Greenfell, a quiet little hamlet where nothing ever happens. I felt like I had been exiled. I think he thought the quiet would help me, but it didn’t. Before he retired he had me reassigned to Kirkwall. I believe this time he’d hoped that the strict environment would help me feel safer, more in control, but as soon as I’d arrived, it became clear that the Gallows were no less dangerous than the Ferelden Circle was. The things we did to get them in line…” he said shaking his head.

His self-loathing felt palpable. It made my own anger towards his prejudice dissipate. He hated himself enough; I didn’t need to add to it. He squeezed his fist tightly next to the board. “Maker, I wish I could forget, to have no memory of what they did in to me...”

At his assertion my own chest tightly clenched; I shook my head and put my hand on his fist, ignoring his reaction. He tensed at first, but eventually his body relaxed even though his fist did not. “Trust me, you do not want that,” I pressed.

His eyes looked up at me. “And how would you know?” he asked and winced at the harshness of his own voice, but I didn’t take offense.

I smiled warmly at him in spite of the scowl on his face and the ache in my own chest. “Because I know what it's like to experience a trauma that you can’t remember, and trust me, the not knowing, it doesn’t make it better.”

His brow shifted down his forehead and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I sat back and put my hands in my lap and stared down at them for a moment before looking back up. “How long have I been here?” I asked, feeling like I’d lost track of time since I arrived.

“It has been nearly two months since the explosion and you appeared from the rift,” he clarified.

I nodded to myself and sat quietly for a moment before continuing. “It must have been eighteen months ago then that I was attacked,” I explained, watching him carefully. He was listening patiently. “I didn’t wake up again until four months ago.”

At that Cullen reacted. He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened? Was it…” He hesitated before continuing. “Blood magic?”

I forced myself to not react unfavorably to his assumption. Of course he’d think of magic. What else other than magic could keep someone asleep for that long? If what had happened to me back home happened here in Thedas, I wouldn’t have survived. It took surgery to keep the dangerous swelling in my brain from killing me. Even then, they weren't certain if I would ever wake up. The EEG told them that I still had brain activity, but it was minimal, with only small moments where the activity would increase and they’d believe I was waking or perhaps actively dreaming. After about two weeks of slow waves with short bursts of activity, they made several attempts to wake me up, but it never worked. After another couple of months they gave up and offered the services of a long-term care facility.

Realizing I was getting lost in my thoughts again, I broke my stare with the chessboard and looked up at him again. I shook my head with a sad smile. “Men don’t need magic to do terrible things.”

I could tell he was chewing on the inside of his lip as he processed my words. Finally he nodded. “You’re right. They don’t.” His tone and his gaze had turned sour and I had the feeling that he was thinking of himself with his own words. His gaze had dropped during his moment of loathing again, but he forced it back up to meet mine. “If not magic, then what happened?”

I shrugged. “I don’t exactly remember. I only know what they’ve told me. I was attacked and sustained a head injury that should have killed me. Instead I slept for fourteen months.”

Cullen visibly shuddered at my words. “I can’t even imagine being forced to sleep for that long. Did you dream?” I nodded and he shuddered again, clearly uncomfortable.

I pressed again to see if he’d tell me anything more. “Do you? Dream, I mean?”

He made a face and then tried to appear dismissive. “Everyone dreams,” he said evasively. 

“True enough,” I said, deciding not to press the matter further or bring up a counter argument about dwarves. Now wasn’t the time for arguments, no matter how benign they may be. “I don’t remember much of my dreams during that time though,” I continued with a shrug. “I don’t remember much of anything from the night I was attacked until the day I woke up.”

“Even the attack?” he asked. 

“Even the attack,” I confirmed. 

He shifted in his chair, sitting up straighter. “I think I’d have almost preferred that to remembering to be honest.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t bring the peace you think it would,” I warned. 

He didn’t say anything in response. He just stared at me patiently and openly, waiting for me to explain. 

So I did. “I may not remember the attack or my dreams during the fourteen months that I was asleep, but it still haunts me, Cullen. Both when I’m asleep and when I’m awake. The memories play at the edges of my mind, little bits and pieces that seep through taunting me. When I was awake I had this constant sense of dread and questioning. I felt like there was something I was missing, something important and that I was still in danger. I feel like if I’d at least known what happened to me that I could face it and move on. Instead I was stuck in a limbo where my brain couldn’t remember, but it felt like my body could - always ready to fight or flee. It was exhausting.”

“You speak like its in the past. Do you still feel that now?”

I didn’t respond right away. I sat back and thought. Sure, ever since I arrived in Thedas I always seemed to have this sense of fear and dread. Who wouldn’t when faced with a catastrophe that threatened the very fabric of reality? But that feeling was different than what I felt back home. I shook my head and shrugged. No, the uncertainty and dread left when I left Earth - or at the very least it got pushed very deep down thanks to the shock of waking up here. “I still feel that sense that I’m missing something important, but the feeling of fear and dread has changed since I came here.”

He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face before he looked down at the board and smiled. “It seems we’ve forgotten our game.”

I smiled back at him, allowing his diversion again. “It seems that you already won several moves ago.”

His lips shifted into a lopsided smirk. “When did you notice?”

“Much later than I should have,” I admitted. We sat there in the warm silence, smiling at each other. I felt my animosity towards the commander dissipate. He might probably react in ways that still showed his prejudice towards magic, but today he’d decided to open up to me, to trust me in a way that reminded me that the magic within me and his fear of it wasn’t personal. That we could even become friends in spite of it.

* * *

It was late when I entered the war room warily. Leliana sent a scout with a message to meet her there alone, but when I entered the room, it was empty. I moved over to the war table and looked at our markers. Josephine had some metal versions of my marker made up and now they were beginning to spread across Fereldan and the Free Marches. I picked one up and circled it in my palm. It was then that I realized that the twisting stems resembled a caduceus without the wings.

It struck me as odd never having noticed it before, but I didn’t have the time to dwell on it as the door opened and Leliana strolled in accompanied by Cullen, Solas, Maxwell, and Cassandra.

“Maxwell, you’re back,” I said in happy greeting as they all spread out around the table, now understanding why Leliana called me here. But then I looked around the room. “Where’s Josephine?” My eyes also landed on Solas - a presence usually not native to this room. “Solas?”

Solas looked around at the others before answering my question. “The ambassador does not quite have the… stomach for these sorts of things,” he explained as if the answer should have been obvious.

I looked at everyone’s faces again, immediately feeling unsettled. “What sort of things,” I asked, backing up towards the door.

“The Rite of Tranquility,” answered Cullen coldly, putting the brand on the war room table. The dull thud that echoed across the room froze me in place.

“Wh-what? For who?”

“For you,” answered Maxwell. 

My gaze whipped over to him. He was the closest, standing just feet away to my left. “You can’t be serious… I’m not even a mage!”

“Does it matter?” Asked Cassandra moving from behind the side of the table and standing next to Maxwell. “The Chantry has used it on much less before.”

“But _why?_ What have I done?”

“You haven’t been truthful,” chimed in Leliana, glowering from beneath her hood. “You’ve been lying to us all the whole time, putting all of us - _the Herald_ \- in danger.”

I turned to Solas, pleading. “Please, you can’t let them do this!” I cried taking a step back towards the door again.

Just as I considered turning to run, Solas appeared next to me, gripping my arm hard. “Why? Because I am a mage too? Should I be moved to sympathy for your plight?”

“But I’m _not a mage_!” I yelled.

“Then explain the magic within you!” roared Cullen in a voice that made me shrink back.

Solas yanked on my arm to keep me standing upright. “I… I can’t,” I replied weakly. 

“Can’t?” spat Cassandra. “Or _won’t?"_

“I really don’t know why this magic is in me or how it’s affecting me or even how I got here,” I said in a rush, pulling against Solas’ grip.

“Got here from _where?”_ pressed Leliana.

“I _told_ you! I—“

“Lies!” interrupted Cassandra.

Maxwell chimed in. “We know you’re not from the Hinterlands!”

“Who are you?” questioned Leliana. 

“ _What_ are you?” demanded Cullen. 

At this point I was shrinking back again, tears forming in my eyes. Solas yanked me upright again, hard, and I cried out. Leliana threw up her hands in exasperation. “Enough with the tears! They won’t work to hide your lies anymore!

I turned to Solas again. “Why are you doing this to me? You of all people?”

“‘Me of all people’?” he repeated with a sneer.

“You know what I mean…” I said, hinting to his sympathies for me earlier. His willingness to keep my secrets. 

“Enough!” roared Cullen again in a way that made my knees feel like jelly, causing them to buckle. This time Solas let go, letting my knees slam into the stones. Cullen picked up the brand and stormed around the table. He stopped in front of me, grabbed the collar of my overcoat, and yanked me up enough to bring my face closer to his, but not enough for me to effectively regain my footing. “Tell us the truth!” His venom and anger was so great when he spoke that I could feel the spittle on my face.

I let out an involuntary sob at the raging man in front of me. He rolled his eyes in disgust and threw me back down onto my knees. “Please! Tell me what I’ve done!” I pleaded, grasping at the bottom of his burgundy mantle.

He made a guttural noise of disgust and kicked me off of him. He nodded his head, and Solas and Maxwell grabbed me by the arms and lifted me to my feet. “Tell us who you are!”

“Sophia Darrow!”

“And where are you from?” asked Leliana, standing just behind Cullen’s right shoulder.

“Denerim!”

“Liar!” roared Cullen. “Why did you tell Solas that you lied about where you were from!”

I opened my mouth to yell back, offended by the accusation. “I—“

I abruptly clicked my mouth shut and glared at the man in front of me. The fear in that moment left me, leaving only anger behind. “I said no such thing to Solas, or anyone else for that matter. I said it to an aspect of fear… much like yourself.”

The aspect wearing Cullen’s face chuckled darkly. He looked to the brand in his hand and shrugged, tossing it over his shoulder where it landed on the table with an eerie sound, like the sound of metal hitting the bottom of a plastered pool, not the varnished wood of the war table. “How very perceptive,” he said with a voice that sounded like Cullen’s but also carried a deep tone underneath. With a shock, I realized that Cullen wasn’t an aspect of fear, but Fear itself.

“Maybe we should dig a little deeper then,” he said and gripped my head between two, strong hands.

I wrapped my hands around his wrists, trying to pull them away. “Enough,” I said, a weak attempt at a command.

He pressed his hands harder to my head, his dull tan-colored eyes boring into mine. “Show me…” he hissed.

 _“Enough, demon!_ ” I cried as the Fear-Cullen released my head with a jolt and the aspects of fear that took on the shapes of the others disappeared. I would have rejoiced except that the Fear-Cullen did not change or disappear. Instead, we were both standing in a completely new environment.

“No…” I whispered, horrified.

Standing in front of me, still in the guise of the Commander, Fear looked completely out of place in the middle of my farmhouse style dining room, the now-cold dinner setting scattered across the table and floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it begins! The next three chapters pretty much deal with all of the issues that come to light over the next several hours. Sophie won't be able to deal with it on her own unless she picks up an ally or two ^_~


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